Bullseye
by ImStillRJ
Summary: The BAU team must face a new level of evil in a vigilante killer who may be just as skilled at murder as they are at stopping it. As the killer stalks the streets of DC, they must race the clock to stop him before he hits too close to home.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I'm Back! Here it is folks, This is the sequel to my other story "The Hunt" but I believe that it could be understood if you decided to read it as a stand alone. But you really should read "The Hunt" Its pretty good. I'm having a blast writing this one, but again, I am a twisted individual! Having said that I must issue some **WARNINGS** for this one. First of all, this one is much more brutal then "The Hunt". My villain is very villainous and may not be suitable for the kiddies. But I will positively say there is no rape or sexual type thing of any sort as I have certain things that, twisted or not, I simply will not write. There may also be some strong language in parts of this thing, so if you get offended easily, you may want to read some Glee fics instead. Just sayin. Read On and ENJOY!_

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><p>The cable TV censorship bleep drowned out the rain pattering against the window. Emily Prentiss lay in bed watching the strung out prostitute run across the Jerry Springer stage in a ridiculous attempt to attack the alleged father of her third child. She blinked lazily, unamused by the antics and the chanting of the audience. She decided that two episodes of the only show airing at the early hour were plenty and clicked off the TV, plunging the room into darkness. She eyed the clock on the nightstand, disappointed to find it was only 2am. She still had three hours before the alarm sounded and she could get out of bed without feeling guilty. She'd promised JJ that she wouldn't be overly eager to return to work and would try to rest before her first day.<p>

Her doctor had warned her that she would most likely suffer some lingering effects of the injuries she'd received on their last case. A pair of lunatic hunters had sent their SUV careening down the side of a mountain before chasing them through the freezing wet forest for nearly two days. Though Emily only remembered vague bits and pieces of the time on the mountain, Reid had done a good job filling in the blanks during his visits to her hospital room. Her doctor had explained that the memory loss was normal; he couldn't say either way if she'd recover the memories or if they'd be lost forever. The latter scenario didn't bother her. It had taken her three weeks in the hospital to recover from the ordeal and she wasn't particularly eager to remember the events leading up to her stay. Doctor Tanner had also explained about the lingering headaches she'd likely suffer a s a result of her head injury. However, he had failed to tell her how quickly they would hit her and how severe they could be.

During her first week home from the hospital, the team stopped by regularly to check in on her and often spent the evenings eating dinner and watching movies. Although they claimed it was just to keep her company, she knew they really wanted to check in, to make sure she was alright. Though she feigned annoyance, she loved them for their concern. It was during one such occasion on her second day home that the first and, thus far, most severe of her headaches hit. She was walking with a couple glasses of mixed drinks from the kitchen to her friends in the living room as they watched a movie.

The headache had started earlier in the day as a nagging ache at the base of her skull but had gradually gotten worse as the day went on. She had really just wanted to go to bed, but her friends were relentless so she simply ignored it as one of the symptoms she'd been expecting. But as she made her way from the kitchen to join the team, a sudden sharp pain shot from the back of her skull, raced through her head, and erupted behind her eyes like a bolt of lightning. The severity of it blinded her on impact, and her equilibrium vanished, dropping her to her knees. The glasses shattered against the hardwood floor; every member of the team came running and slid through the mixture of juices and soda to her side. Once the headache subsided she'd attempted to joke about the epic party foul. They weren't amused and had spent the rest of the evening watching her closely until she had finally fallen asleep.

Emily blinked at the bedside clock again, pushing the memory from her mind. That had been two weeks ago and her new doctor in DC had given her a prescription for the headaches. She hadn't had another one so severe since. Sure, the headaches were there and had become frequent annoyances, but so far that's all they were: annoyances. She'd made it at home alone with no incidents for nearly two weeks and had finally been cleared to go back to work. Of course, she hadn't told Doctor Christiansen about her problems sleeping or about the pain she'd felt in her lungs when she challenged herself to a morning run a few days ago.

She sighed and turned over, smiling at the irritated meow that Sergio sent up from her feet at having his sleep disrupted. She now only had an hour and a half before the clock buzzed. She sighed again and disabled the alarm, deciding it was close enough, and flipped the covers down over Sergio to drag herself out of bed. She made a quick trip down to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee before returning to her bedroom. She glared at the rain pelting against the window before stepping into the bathroom for a shower. After their time on the mountain in Montana, she hated the rain.

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><p>Owen Taylor loved the rain. He got his best sleep when it was raining outside. The sound of its gentle rhythm against the roof and the window panes, the smell of it as it cleaned the air, all of it creating a perfect ambience for sleeping. But this night was different. He felt groggy and uncomfortable, even as he heard the steady melody of the rain above him. He was freezing and for a moment he wondered if Carol had left the bedroom window open. As he forced his brain to wake up, his back and shoulders screamed at him and he realized he was sitting up. A sudden sound of a strangely mechanical voice behind him had his head whipping up from his chest, and he looked around frantically for where it originated. He was sitting in the center of a warehouse, more specifically, his warehouse. He attempted to stand but immediately realized that he had been tied to the chair. Eyes wide, he struggled against the thick ropes, wincing as they dug into his wrists and ankles. The ropes held tight and he gave up tin favour of scanning the dimly lit building.<p>

The warehouse had been stocked earlier in the day; stacks of wooden crates lined the walls, and he noticed the various places in the ceiling where the rain water ran down in streams and splashed against the concrete floor and tan vehicles parked in the center of the warehouse.

"Hello, Owen."

It was a deep, abnormal sounding voice. One that only came from a machine similar to the one he used frequently to disguise his voice when dealing with clients over the phone. His head whipped around again, eyes searching for the voice that seemed to echo off the aluminum walls and made him dizzy.

"Who are you?" he yelled out into the shadows.

"Who I am is unimportant. It's who you are that matters."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Owen strained his eyes into the shadows, searching the areas he could barely make out behind the Humvees parked haphazardly in front of him.

"I'm talking about loyalty, Owen."

"What?" he spat out. "I don't have a fucking clue what you're talking about! You have no idea who you're dealing with!"

A sudden movement to his right caught his attention, and when he turned his head toward it, a solid fist slammed in to his face. He grunted as stars burst behind his eyes, and he swore he had heard his tooth crack. Anger boiled up in his chest, and he spat a mouthful of blood onto the concrete floor in front of him, just missing the black boots standing to his left.

"You just signed your death warrant." Owen growled and lifted his head to meet the eyes behind the black ski mask above him. He laughed at the cliché and grinned with bloody teeth. "I'll send you straight to hell."

His captor stalked slowly behind him, making no sound before leaning close. Owen felt warm breath against his ear. "You first." The mechanical voice was gone.

Owen's eyes widened as he immediately recognized the voice no longer distorted by the device. Fear gripped his chest and before he could speak, beg for his life, the razor sharp blade of the black bowie knife sunk deeply into the side of his neck. Owen jumped at the sudden blinding pain, but the ropes held him immobile. He gurgled as he tried to speak, to breathe, to do anything, but his body failed to cooperate. His hands tingled and numbed, and he blinked at the tears in his eyes. The figure behind him leaned over again, ignoring the blood seeping down the hilt of the knife from the severed carotid artery and soaking into the black glove.

"Give the devil my best."

The other gloved hand gripped his hair, ripping his head back, as the knife pushed forward and free of his neck, splashing blood onto the concrete and against the Humvees.

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><p>It was 7am on the dot when Emily stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen for the first time in nearly six weeks. She rounded the corner and was met by a group of empty desks. She walked to her desk, set her things down, and sent a glance to Hotch's closed door before looking at her watch. Scowling, she compared the time on her wrist to the clock on the wall and confirmed she was on time. She had told the team not to make a big fuss about her returning to work but this was ridiculous. She at least wanted <em>some<em> familiar smiles.

She secured her things in her desk and set off toward the briefing room in search of the team. Her unease grew when she saw the light on and JJ standing in front of the window speaking to whom she could only guess was the rest of the team. They had started without her. She tried not to be offended by the fact that they'd become used to not having her around. She shoved away the ridiculous thought and slowly pushed the door open, preparing to apologize for her tardiness.

The words stopped in her throat, and she tried not to choke as she jumped from the sudden onslaught of obnoxious horns and whistles and shouts of surprise that exploded in her face the moment she entered. Once the initial shock wore off and she could breathe again, she couldn't help the enormous smile at the sight before her. All the members of her team – except JJ, the decoy in the window – wore brightly colored pointy party hats and held various styles of noisy party favors. Garcia flew up from her seat and enveloped Emily in a tight hug.

"It's so good to have you back!" A huge smile spread across her face as she snapped the elastic string under Emily's chin, securing the large pink glittery party hat to the top of her head.

Emily smiled. She hadn't wanted a big fuss about returning, but the sight of Aaron Hotchner in a pointy blue party hat and scowling around the feathery green and yellow party favor in his mouth had made it very much worth her jumping out of her skin at the surprise. Garcia ushered her over to sit at the table and JJ re-entered the room with a tray of wildly colored cupcakes that she set on the table in front of Emily.

"It was Garcia's idea," JJ said, squeezing Emily's shoulder and smiled at Garcia.

"You guys really didn't have to do this," Emily said. She looked around the table with a smile.

"Nonsense, Princess." Morgan smiled. "Any excuse for cupcakes is a good enough excuse for me."

"Got your appetite back, I see." She grinned, picking up a bright blue cupcake from the tray and peeling away the paper. "How's the abs?"

"I don't even notice it anymore. I've been cleared to full duty." He raised his hands above his head in a raise the roof manner and she laughed when Garcia smacked him.

"Light duty wasn't that bad," Garcia said. "You got to hang out in the cave with me." She winked and he flashed her a smile.

"Of course I love hangin' with you, baby girl. It's the whole cave part of the equation that I'm happy to be away from."

"Not a worry, I was going to kick you out to make room for Emily anyway."

Emily choked on her cupcake. "I'm sorry what?"

"You are on light duty, right? As in going to be standing back and letting these guys kick down the doors for a little while? Please tell me you are going to take it easy for awhile, Em." Garica asked with pleading eyes.

Before she could respond, Hotch's phone rang and they all quieted for him to answer it. A few minutes later he hung up and tucked the phone back into his pocket.

"Sorry guys, that was DCPD. They need us on a consult."

The team all stood and left the room, snatching up the remaining cupcakes as they went, and Hotch held Prentiss back with a nod of his head until the others cleared the room.

"Prentiss, I know you've been released by your doctor to return, but, how are you feeling, really?"

"I feel good, Hotch." She grinned at him.

"How are the headaches?"

She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking back to the incident in her apartment that had obviously scared them all to death. All over a stupid headache.

"They're alright. Nothing a little Motrin won't knock out."

"I believe you," he said. He pulled the hat from his head and looked to the floor.

"But?"

"Strauss wants you to take it easy for a few days, just until you're sure you're one hundred percent." He spoke quietly, guilty.

"It's alright, Hotch." She snorted a half laugh. "I didn't expect anything less. Just don't forget about me down in the cave with Penelope, okay?"

He smiled and she laughed, handing him a napkin.

"Your teeth are blue."

"I hate cupcakes." He smirked again, this time hiding his stained teeth, and handed her his party favor before wiping at his mouth with the napkin.

They walked out of the briefing room and joined the rest of the team that had congregated around their desks.

"Dave, I'm going to send you, Reid, and Morgan to meet up with DCPD down in the warehouse district. Homicide found a victim in one of the warehouses that has them somewhat puzzled. JJ, I want you get on the phone with their office and make an official offer of our services should they need us further after the consult."

"What about Prentiss?" Morgan asked suspiciously, glancing from his boss to his friend as she offered him a forced grin.

"Prentiss is going to be spending some time in the office with Garcia. I believe Penelope has someone she'd like you to meet." Hotch ignored Prentiss's confused look and then nodded to Garcia.

"Oh goody!" Garcia clapped her hands together. "Come on Em, party in the cave! I'll bring the party hats!"

With that Garcia grabbed the remaining tray of cupcakes and scurried down the hall toward her office, waving at Emily to follow her.

"Oh, I'll bring my, uh..." She paused, looked around her desk, and realized she had no idea what she was supposed to bring to spend a day in the office with Garcia. Instead she lifted her hand that still held Hotch's party favor horn "...this thing."

The rest of the team laughed as they watched the brunette, still wearing her sparkly pink party hat, briskly walk off after the sugar-hyped technical analyst. She turned back to them and blew out a loud honk of the favor in their direction before smiling and ducking around the corner, waving. God, it was good to have her back.

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><p><em>Author's Note: There you go! Chapter 1. What do you think? Click it and tell me your thoughts!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Wow! I don't know what to say to the response to this story already! Thank you! So sorry it has been such a long wait for this Chapter. Work got crazy and real life took over my steering wheel. I put real life back in its seat belt and finally finished it. Special thanks to my new Beta, who puts in a lot of work in making sense of my thoughts, and corrected my typos. Read on!_

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><p>Emily watched Garcia skip happily into her office, dubbed by the team as <em>The Cave<em>, despite its brightly colored assortment of knick knacks and writing utensils strewn about the desks. The office always seemed dark and cold to Emily. She knew the room was kept cool in order to keep the machines from overheating. But the reason for the dim lighting had always puzzled her. Every time she had been in the office, the only real illumination came from the various computer screens lining the desk and walls. The office had lights. She had personally seen them used before. Garcia just preferred to work in the semi-darkness. Just the thought of spending a few days in the low light, staring at the computer screens, made Emily's head hurt. Garcia seemed to catch this thought and flipped the light switch on the wall. The room erupted with florescent illumination and Emily grinned in appreciation.

Garcia busied herself with powering on all of the machines before disappearing out into the hall. Emily set her bag on the floor next to the desk and picked up one of the random toys from its surface. The green blob wiggled and lit up in her hands and she let it slither back to the desk, somewhat creeped out by its texture. She turned around at the sound of plastic wheels of the office chair sliding through the door as Garcia pushed it in next to hers at the desk. Emily thanked her and took the offered seat.

"So, what exactly is it I'm supposed to help you with down here?" Emily asked, eyeing all the computer screens. She felt completely out of her element.

"Oh, you know, navigate the internet super highway, go through people's dirty laundry, and answer every seemingly impossible question the teams can come up with." Garcia answered, plopping down in her chair. "We'll work miracles and make the World Wide Web our bitch."

"Teams? Are you cheating on us?"

"Oh Sweetheart, you didn't think you were the only team that I service, did you?"

Emily had never really thought about it before. She had grown so accustomed to the super tech working information miracles for them for so long, it had never crossed her mind that Garcia must work with other agents as well.

"Should I be jealous?" Emily feigned worry.

"Don't fret kitten. You know you come first." Garcia patted Emily on the knee and they shared a smile.

Once the computers were online and Garcia seemed to be settled into her morning routine, Emily asked the question that had been on her mind since Hotch had planted it.

"Hey Pen, who was it you wanted me to meet?"

Garcia looked over the top of her pink glasses at the clock on the wall, then to one of the monitors on the desk.

"It's too early. She won't be back from her run yet." Garcia stated flatly.

"Who?" Emily prodded.

Garcia snapped her attention back to Emily and turned in her chair. "You remember Nicholas Wilks?"

"The tracking expert from Colorado? I thought he stopped consulting once they determined Lambert hitched a ride off the mountain."

"He did." Garcia replied. "I still wanted to learn more about the whole survivalist thing though. Learn about their mindset and motivations. Ya know, maybe get into Lambert's head."

Emily winced. "I don't know if that's really a place you want to go, PG."

"Oh, no doubt!" Garcia agreed. "Nicholas put me in contact with an associate of his. If extreme recreation survivalists have prodigies, I believe her to be one of them. She's like the lovechild of Rainman and MacGyver."

"And she's going to help you get into Lambert's head?" Emily wasn't sure if she should be concerned or amused by Garcia's desire to profile the mad man.

"Oh no Princess." Garcia said. "Like you said yourself, that monster's head is the last place that I want to go. She's going to help _you_ get into Lambert's head."

"Right," was all Emily could say, nodding her understanding. "What's her background?"

Garcia spun in her chair and bent over to dig through the lower desk drawer on her left. She retrieved a file and turned back around, flipping it open.

"It's actually kind of sad." Garcia's face fell. "Her mother was killed by a random street thug in a mugging gone wrong when she was three years old. Her father was a Gunnery Sergeant in the Marine Corps and started teaching her about wilderness survival, and all sorts of other outdoorsy stuff that I really don't get the appeal of, from a very young age."

"He wanted to teach her how to survive a world that had violently taken her mother." Emily thought aloud.

"Makes sense doesn't it?" Garcia said. "When I asked her how she knew Nicholas, she said she'd taken one of his classes to prepare for an adventure trip she'd planned to take with her father. Unfortunately, her dad died of a heart condition a few years ago and they never got to go. Nicholas said that he was so impressed by her in his class, that he offered her a job teaching classes for him. Since then she's helped him assist the U.S. Marshal's office in tracking down a half dozen fugitives and they've recovered close to thirty missing persons all across the country."

"How much is this consult costing the Bureau?" Emily suddenly wondered what Chief Strauss thought of the unconventional consult.

"Not a dime." Garcia beamed.

"Oh come on Garcia." Emily scoffed. "Someone with that kind of reputation doesn't work for free. Especially when the client is a well-funded government agency."

"All I know is that after our first meeting, she sent me an invoice stamped, _paid in full_." Garcia straightened in her seat and smiled brightly. "It must have been my charming personality."

"Paid in full? As in someone paid her fee, or that she waved the charges?" Emily's mind went immediately to Rossi. The senior agent could have easily fronted enough money to cover the cost of a private contractor.

Their thoughts were interrupted by a chime from the computer on the desk. Garcia spun in her chair to face the monitor.

"I don't know," Garcia responded to Emily's question. "She just logged on. Let's ask her."

Garcia clicked the icon in the corner of the screen. A video conference window popped up and opened across the monitor. For a moment they were met only by the image of an empty office chair, before a blur of white passed through the screen and a woman settled into the chair.

"Good morning, Penelope."

The woman's voice sounded through the computer's speakers before her face disappeared behind a plastic water bottle as she took a drink.

"Morning, Cassi." Garcia returned the greeting and adjusted the volume. "How was your run?"

"The rain stopped about halfway through. I love the rain in Virginia." She answered and leaned in closer to screen, eyeing them. "Who's your friend?"

"Cassi, meet Emily Prentiss. Emily, Cassidy Maddox." Garcia introduced.

The young woman on the screen looked nothing like Emily had imagined from the little she had learned. She had pictured a tall, stocky woman in her thirties, definitely not the teenager in front of her. She wore no baseball cap or khakis like all the outdoor enthusiasts that Emily had seen in Cabela's catalogs. Instead, she had sleek dark hair cut even with her jaw line and curled perfectly behind her ears, despite having just returned from a run. The girl stared through the screen at her with sharp eyes, studying her through square, wire framed glasses. Emily offered a smile to the camera mounted on top of the computer screen and lifted her hand in an awkward wave. The woman's left eyebrow arched and the focused scowl softened.

"Sorry. I was distracted." Cassi grinned, revealing hidden dimples that made her appear even younger. "Nice hat."

Emily frowned in confusion for a moment and blindly reached to her head. Her hand knocked against the stiff paper party hat, and she immediately understood the initial look on the woman's face. She pulled the hat from her head, blushing slightly, and chuckled.

"I forgot that was there." Emily said.

"You're the second person from the FBI I've ever had contact with. You're both wearing them. I was beginning to wonder if it was standard uniform." Cassi joked.

"That would be the day!" Garcia piped up. "Although, we did manage to get Hotch into one. Strauss is just a tray of cupcakes away."

They shared a laugh, despite Cassi not knowing who Strauss actually was, before Garcia pulled another file from her desk drawer.

"So Cassi," Garcia spoke after noting both of the brunettes were watching her. "Now that Emily is back, you can start working with her on catching up to Lambert."

"Like I've told you before Penelope, I can't tell you what he's thinking. I don't know what he's thinking. All I can tell you is what I would do in his position. That doesn't necessarily mean I can find him for you." Cassi said sympathetically. "Tracking someone in wild terrain is easy, but now that he's in DC…"

"In D.C.?" Emily cut her off, confused. Garcia paled. "Lambert is here?"

Garcia opened her mouth to speak but immediately closed it, not knowing what to say. The color slightly rose in Emily's cheeks and she stared daggers at her friend.

"Tell me Garcia." Emily said. Her voice held an edge of warning.

"They got a call from the tip line in Newport a few weeks ago. An old farmer claimed he'd picked Lambert up and drove him to the bus station in Rockford." Garcia refused to look at Emily as she spoke.

"And?" Emily urged her to continue.

"He told them Lambert was headed for the airport. We think he's here in DC."

Emily stood abruptly, sending her chair rolling backwards and slamming into the wall. "Nobody thought that this is something I should know?"

"We just wanted you to get better Em. You would have just stressed yourself out if you knew he was out there."

"So that's what all the team movie nights and constant check-ins were about." Emily realized. "You all were way too protective. I knew there was something going on."

Emily knew that she was being irrational. Underneath the anger she understood their reason for not telling her. She just didn't agree with it. She wanted to storm out of the room and confront Hotch with the information, but the look on Garcia's face made her feel guilty for being angry.

"I'm sorry, Em. They were hoping to have some sort of lead on him before they told you." Garcia finally looked up at her. "Now you're back, and we can really focus on getting this guy."

Emily crossed her arms over her chest and flexed her neck against the dull ache forming under her skull. She felt the anger in her dissolve slightly, but wasn't yet ready to let it go.

"I'm sorry." Cassi's voice broke the tension. The woman looked uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. "I didn't mean to..."

"It isn't your fault." Emily snapped. She took a deep breath and retrieved the chair to sit back down. "Let's just focus on finding this son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry, Em." Garcia whispered.

Emily lifted her hand to stop her, signaling that the particular conversation was over.

"Cassi, What would you do here in DC?"

"Curl up and hide." Cassi laughed. When neither of the other women appeared amused she cleared her throat and explained. "I don't like cities. There are too many people, too much going on. Crowds freak me out."

"So you think he would be hiding out somewhere less crowded and away from the city?" Emily's brain was already processing a list of possible locations in the DC area.

"I have no idea. I'm just saying that's what I would do."

"I understand that." Emily nodded and scooted her chair closer. "Put yourself in his shoes for a few minutes. Close your eyes and think. Pretend you're him."

Cassi looked dumfounded for a moment, unsure of what was expected of her.

"It'll be easier for you to place yourself in his situation if you aren't staring at the screen in front of you." Emily explained. Cassi nodded and took a deep breath as she followed instructions.

"Are you doing a cognitive interview?" Garcia whispered so she wouldn't be heard through the computer.

"Something like that." Emily whispered back, then raised her voice for the survivalist. "Cassi, picture yourself deep in the forest. It's been raining for days and it's cold. You just escaped the group of federal agents that you yourself kidnapped the day before. Your partner is dead, and you're on the run. The mountain is crawling with police search teams. Of all places, why would you go to DC?"

"Revenge on the ones that killed my partner?" Cassi shrugged.

"You don't care about your partner. He didn't mean anything to you and you would have killed him yourself if they hadn't."

"Then I don't really have any reason to go."

"You have to have a reason. You're a hunter, and an experienced tracker. You've been tracking them through your own back yard for nearly two days. You're so close to the kill, but they surprise you. They got away."

Garcia watched Emily, wide-eyed. She had begun the interview so tentatively that she was sure that she was just humoring her desire to help. Somewhere in the process, something had struck Emily, and sparked her into full-on interview mode. Emily now sat forward in her chair and leaned her elbows on the desk, studying the woman on the screen intently. Had the computer not been separating the two women, Garcia was sure Emily would have been right in Cassi's face. The room was silent for a moment as the woman on the computer thought.

"I'd want to catch up to them and make them pay for making me look like a fool." Cassi surprised herself with the venom she'd spit out with her answer and her eyes shot open. Garcia stared at the screen with a slack jaw. The girl didn't seem to have a dangerous bone in her body. Where had that other person come from?

Emily took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. "So going off that theory, what are your first steps after arriving in DC?"

Cassi took a shaky breath, uneasy with the bitterness that had emerged from her mouth only seconds ago. "I would, uh… I'd need a place to stay."

"You're injured." Garcia blurted out and flipped open the file on the desk.

"What?" Emily pulled her attention from the brunette to the file on the desk. "I don't remember that."

"I'm sorry, baby doll, but you don't really remember anything about that day. Morgan shot him. He said that he thought it had only grazed him though." Garcia flipped through the folder and pulled a sheet of paper from the file.

"You have the case file?" Emily asked, surprised.

"Hotch made us copies," Garcia replied. "He's been working on this since the day you woke up. We all have."

Emily felt a pang of guilt at the anger she'd shown her friend earlier. The whole team had been working the case on the side for six weeks. She felt childish for the mini-tantrum and the room fell silent. She was at a loss of what to say.

"I'm sorry." It sounded inadequate, but it was all she had. Garcia smiled at her and stuck her nose back to the page.

"Here it is. Derek shot him in the right shoulder. The bullet went all the way through and was recovered from a tree stump." Garcia read from the page.

"I can tend to a wound like that myself." Cassi brought their attention back to her. "Assuming it was just a graze, I'd carry enough gear in my pack to do it. But if I had to abandon my pack, I'd need supplies. He would have found water right away, especially if he knew the mountain that well. He'd know exactly where to go for it. He could pack the wound with pretty much anything to stop the bleeding and hide it from anyone he stumbled across."

"What would he need to treat it once he was off the mountain?" Emily reached across the desk for the stack of Post-it notes. They stretched across the desk in a slinky manner before Garcia pulled the bottom section away, leaving Emily with a dozen pink stickies. Emily would have laughed had she not been focused on retrieving a pen from the desk and preparing to jot down notes.

"Hmm, cleaning stuff," Cassi blinked and rubbed her forehead, thinking. "preferably some alcohol or sterile water. If it was deep enough he could get a small sewing kit or some super glue to close the wound. He'd need lots of gauze, and some Tylenol or some sort of antibiotic. It would hurt like hell for a week or so, but if he could keep it from getting infected, he'd be just fine."

"He wouldn't have to completely take care of it himself. He'd only have to manage it until he got out of the search zone. Once he got off the plane, he could go to any hospital and they wouldn't be looking for him." Emily shook her head and jotted down the few notes. She quickly realized Garcia was staring at her with a wide grin. "What?"

"I told you the two of you could come up with something." Garcia bragged. Emily couldn't help but return the smile. After sitting around her apartment watching mindless TV and re-reading the books on her shelves for the last six weeks, getting back on a lead felt good.

"Then what do you do?" Emily turned her attention back to Cassi.

"Find a place off the street where I would be comfortable, but not have to worry about someone finding me while I recovered."

"Like a cheap motel." Garcia said.

"More like a pricey one."

Emily stopped writing and frowned at the screen. Cassi picked up on the confusion and explained.

"If I'm fresh off the plane in a big tourist city, I'm going to find the nicest hotel I can afford and be as comfortable as possible while I recover from my wounds. Cheap motels have cheap tenants. Someone is bound to talk after they notice someone with some sort of injury hanging around for a few days."

"How do you get funds?" Emily asked, jotting down more notes on the sticky paper.

"Funds are easy, especially in tourist towns. You lay down a hat and juggle a couple oranges and by the end of the day, you've got your housing fund. That's just If you want to keep it legal."

"I'm never tipping a street performer again." Garcia grumbled.

Cassi ignored her and continued. "Eventually, once I've fully recovered, I'd start tracking you down and planning my attack."

Emily froze, as did Garcia. Cassi hadn't meant for the comment to sound so personal. It had hit them hard. Even though the entire interview and brainstorming session had been theoretical, Emily couldn't stop the knot that formed in her stomach. It had been six weeks since their ordeal on the mountain. That was plenty of time for his shoulder to heal. As the three women sat safely in the confines of the FBI's Quantico office, there was no doubt in Emily's mind that Benjamin Lambert was outside, in her own back yard, waiting for his opportunity to strike her down.

* * *

><p>The early morning rain shower had dissipated to a thick drizzle by the time the Rossi, Reid, and Morgan arrived at the crime scene. Rossi led them from the SUV toward the yellow tape that flapped in the breeze and separated the large warehouse from the prying eyes of the public. Two news vans had already arrived and a reporter shouted at them. They ignored her and kept walking. A clean cut man wearing a gray suit to match his hair waved them past the guarding patrolman and introduced himself.<p>

"Detective Wayne Kimble." His voice was deep and held a raspiness reserved for a long time chain smoker. "Thanks for coming so quick. This one's gonna be tough."

"No problem." Rossi said after shaking his hand. "We don't get many opportunities to work here at home. We'll help in any way we can."

"Dispatch received an anonymous call early this morning from some guy claiming he found a body. He gives us this address. Patrols get here and find…" The detective paused for a second and pushed open the warehouse door. "Hell, I'll just show you what they found."

The giant wooden door creaked as it swung open. The four men stepped inside and let their eyes adjust to the new light of the dim warehouse.

"Who's the victim?" Rossi asked.

They followed the detective around a tall stack of crates and noticed the numerous Humvees parked across the center of the room.

"My guess is the owner of the building." Kimble answered. "Of course, you won't find his name on the paperwork. We've identified him as one very wanted and very dead, Owen Taylor."

"Owen Taylor? As in, ATF's most wanted arms dealer?" Morgan asked, shocked.

"Alleged arms dealer." Kimble grumbled. "The guy's been in and out of the court room for years. They've never been able to get anything solid on him. Evidence goes missing; witnesses change their minds about testifying. ATF's been waiting for years to find this place."

The detective lifted his hands, elaborating on their surroundings. As they walked closer, Morgan's focus was drawn to the large guns mounted atop all six of the military Humvees.

"Looks like he supplied more than just your average guns." Mogan ran his hand over the thick armored glass window of the Humvee's driver's side as they walked passed.

"What's in all of these crates?" Reid motioned around the room with his hand and then tucked it back into his pocket.

"M16s and M5s," Kimble answered. "At least in the ones we've cracked open so far."

"Looks like ATF's got everything they need for a pretty solid domestic terrorism case." Rossi said.

"Yeah." Kimble agreed. "Too bad he's dead."

They rounded the front of the last Humvee and immediately caught sight of the bloody mess in front of them. The wooden chair lay toppled on its side in a congealing puddle red puddle. The dead man's wrists and ankles were still secured to the slats in the chair by thick nylon rope. Rossi sidestepped around the side of the chair, careful not to disturb any possible evidence. He crouched down on his haunches and craned his neck for a better look at the man's face. Owen Taylor's eyes were glazed open in an eternal look of surprise, and specks of blood spattered his face.

"Look at this." Rossi pointed to the bruise on the dead man's jaw.

Morgan crouched next to him. "His killer roughed him up first."

"Look at the pattern of the bruising. See the ridges?" Rossi pointed to the deep purple lines squiggling along the edge of the bruise.

"Crime scene techs spotted that too." Kimble drew their attention. "Looks like our killer has a thing for knuckle dusters."

"So our UnSub came prepared. He wears brass knuckles under his gloves, and straps Taylor to a chair. Clearly he wanted this guy to hurt." Morgan thought aloud.

"You think it may have been some sort of interrogation?" Rossi asked.

"I doubt it." Reid said. "Bruising on his face suggests he was only hit once. Unless the UnSub was interrupted before he could finish, the victim would be in much worse shape."

"Look at the blood spatter on the walls and Humvee." Rossi pointed. "It's high."

"The UnSub was probably standing behind him. If he pulled his head back before slitting his throat, it could explain the angle of trajectory." Reid rattled off.

Morgan frowned as he noticed a streak of blood smeared on the back of the dead man's shoulders. "Hey guys, look at this. It looks like the UnSub wiped off his blade on the victim's shirt."

"That doesn't sound like someone that was interrupted and worried about being caught." Rossi frowned. "Detective, was there any signs of forced entry?"

"Not a damn thing." Kimble answered. "The guy's a ghost. All the doors were secured with intact padlocks and windows all sealed. Only a side door on the west end was ajar, and it was opened with a key. I'm pretty sure that's where our anonymous RP came in."

"If the victim was the owner of the building, he would certainly have keys to the locks. It's possible the UnSub used his keys to get in." Morgan's eyes searched the building interior as he spoke.

"And locked it up behind him?" Reid sounded suspicious. "That suggests a meticulous plan. It completely contradicts the actual murder, which looks to have been extremely violent and fast; personal even."

"Now you see why we called you." Kimble crossed his arms over his chest. He craved a cigarette.

"Did Taylor have any big competitors that you know about?" Rossi addressed the Detective.

"Sure. I'd be willing to bet all the low life gun runners across the country are gonna swoop in for a piece of the pie."

"Could you compile a list of any alleged affiliates of his gun running operation? Include anything you can about who he may have been dealing to, and where he got his supplies." Rossi said.

"It's gonna be a short list." Kimble mumbled. "If we had that kind of intel, he'd be rotting in a prison cell right now."

"I doubt Taylor kept his supplies in one place for too long, which means this shipment just arrived. If he didn't have time to unload the merchandise to his buyers yet, odds are he hadn't thought to hide his buyers list. Maybe you'll get lucky." Rossi stood. "Probably want to get a warrant for his house too."

Kimble nodded and led the three agents back toward the door. Once they cleared the threshold and stepped into the drizzle he lit up a cigarette. "So what happens now? Are you taking over the case?"

"It's still your investigation Detective." Rossi explained. "We'll take what we've learned back and brainstorm with the rest of the team. We'll combine that information with anything else that your office sends us, and we'll use it to compile a profile of our killer."

There was a long pause as the detective puffed on the cigarette.

"Something on your mind Detective?" Morgan asked, eyeing him.

"There's going to be repercussions." Kimble replied. "Buyers are gonna be pissed. His competitors are gonna be fighting over his area of operation."

"You think that might have been a motive?" Reid asked. "To start a turf war among his competitors?"

"I've dealt with these guys before Dr. Reid." Kimble stomped out his cigarette. "Hired killers are not as uncommon as you would think with these guys. If someone wanted to take over Taylor's business, they wouldn't risk taking on a death like that themselves."

"We'll consider that possibility." Rossi shook the Detectives hand as they stopped next to the SUV. "I believe our liaison has already opened communication with your department. If you have any questions or if you find anything in your sweep of the warehouse, give us a call."

Rossi handed Kimble his business card and they climbed into the SUV, leaving the crime scene behind them. Once they were out on the open road, Morgan spoke as he drove.

"Okay, so we have an UnSub that seems to have meticulously planned this murder. He was able to slip in, and out of the warehouse- that no doubt had guards watching it- without leaving at trace. He ties the victim to a chair, so I'm assuming he wanted to talk to him. He even wears brass knuckles, but only gets in one hit. Why?"

"Maybe Taylor told him what he wanted to know after the first hit." Reid offered from the back seat.

"If that were the case, this guy's all over the place. A guy that ties the victim to a chair and wears brass knuckles is there to deliver a beating. Whether Taylor told him what he wanted to know or not, that shows incredible restraint for him to stop after just one hit." Morgan theorized. "Then he turns around and kills him in a manner so violent that it seems personal?"

"It was a quick and efficient act. Taylor would have been dead before he even hit the floor." Rossi thought aloud. "I have to admit; Detective Kimble's hired gun theory isn't sounding so crazy."

* * *

><p>Benjamin Lambert wiped the dripping layer of steam from the bathroom mirror, and smiled at the stranger staring back at him. The first purchase he'd made after arriving in Washington D.C. three weeks ago had been an electric razor, and a box of hair dye. The fact that he had lost nearly twenty pounds in the last six weeks, due to his healing injury and nonstop traveling, had provided a drastic change in his appearance.<p>

"You are one good lookin son of a bitch." He said to his reflection with a wink.

He proceeded to brush his teeth and towel his now nearly black hair before exiting the humid bathroom. He clicked on the TV as he walked past it, and dug into the suitcase he'd picked up from the luggage turnstile at the airport. He'd watched the bag's owner for the good part of an hour before deciding the man was close enough to his height and build to be acceptable. The sound the man had made when he'd clubbed him over the head and proceeded to strangle him in the low level parking structure, still made Ben smile. Six weeks without the primal feeling of a kill had worn on him. His goal was in sight, getting closer by the day. He craved it. The very feeling of being so close to his prey, and yet unseen, exhilarated him more than he had ever thought possible.

He smiled again and picked up the wallet he'd tossed on the bed before his shower. The man's name had been Keith Frasier. Ben had hit pay dirt with his selection of the New York sales rep. The man had six credit cards in his wallet. It had only taken him an hour of following Keith around the airport before he'd stuck the card into an ATM machine. All Ben had to do was watch his fingers as they typed in his four digit PIN. Over the week, he'd been able to draw out nearly three thousand in cash from various machines from the one card alone. He'd lucked out to discover that threes of the six cards in Keith's wallet had been programmed with the same PIN. Yes, Ben had been living comfortably for the last three weeks; very comfortably. Soon he'd be able to start bringing his plan against the FBI agents to action.

A news report flashing across the TV screen caught his attention. He watched as the pretty blond reporter spoke to the camera. Even with the sound muted, he knew exactly what she was saying. It was the third time that morning he'd seen the special report, and each time he was entranced by it. A big time arms dealer had been murdered in his own warehouse, surrounded by illegal guns and ammo. Each time the story aired, Ben found himself more impressed by the man who had pulled off such a kill. The police seemed to be chasing their tails, and the news stations were going nuts. Ben sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the part he knew was coming. He clicked off the mute and the room echoed with the sharp sound of the reporter speaking.

"…D.C. Police have enlisted the help of the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit in hopes of learning more information about Owen Taylor's killer. Thus far, BAU agents have made no official report on their findings. "

Ben perked up, watching as the three agents crossed in front of the camera. They ignored the reporter and briskly walked through the frame and disappeared into the warehouse. Ben smiled. The genius Doctor Reid and the hero Agent Morgan appeared to be recovered from their last encounter. He would take extra pride in watching them fall a second time. This time, they would not get back up. He was sure of it.

He stood from the bed, and watched the rest of the silent report from the corner of his eye as he dressed. He could use this killer's publicity in his own plans. With such a high profile murder happening right under their noses, all eyes would be on finding that killer. Nobody would be worried about the discovery of Keith Frasier's body. What was one more random mugging victim in the nation's capital? No, the BAU team had their plates full with a different breed of hunter.

Ben clicked off the TV and tucked his newly acquired Glock pistol into the back of his pants before pulling his shirt and jacket on over it. He took a moment to down a few Motrin pills and collected his camera from the suitcase. He did a quick scan of the room, making sure nothing would appear suspicious to the hotel's housekeeping, before exiting. Inspired by the work of another killer, he decided his first trip to the FBI's Quantico office was in order.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Dun Dun Dunnnnn! Okay, so that was a pretty long, kind of boring chapter. But this story has a lot of back story to it that needs developing. It will pick up in later chapters I promise! Click it and let me know what you think!<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Is it just me or is anyone else irritated by the sites "temporarily unavailable" errors lately. Seems every time I want to post, I can't cause its broken. And now with it's screwed up hit counter. I'm sorry if you get my update alert multiple times! Oh well, here I am, and here is Chapter 3! Enjoy!_

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><p>It was early afternoon when JJ poked her head through the doorway and called Garcia and Prentiss to the briefing room. Emily bent to retrieve her bag, trying not to show her excitement at getting away from the stuffy office, which now smelled of the open bag of strawberry fruit snacks on the desk. They had worked Lambert's profile with Cassi for nearly three hours before she had to leave the conference to make an appointment with another client. Shortly after, Rossi had given them the assignment of finding everything they could on Owen Taylor and any known pending ATF firearm investigations in the area. While Garcia flew through every criminal record, bank account, and known associates of the weapons dealer, Emily took over one of the monitors and began the task of contacting the ATF, and requesting as much information as they would give her. The number of open investigations currently being conducted in the DC metro area discouraged her. Her search succeeded only in creating a bigger proverbial haystack for them to search.<p>

She printed out the information and tucked it into her briefcase to present to the team. She stood quickly to leave and the room tilted slightly to the left. She reacted by jerking to the right and steadied herself on the corner of the desk. She blinked quickly and took a deep breath against the growing ache in her head. The room quickly righted itself and her vision cleared. She released the desk and turned to leave, but was stopped by the concerned face of Garcia blocking her path. She had been so sucked into her work that she had forgotten her friend was in the room.

Garcia had just clicked the icon on the computer to set her status to _Away from Desk_, and turned just in time to see Emily falter. Garcia shot to her feet with every intention of catching her if she fell. She quickly pulled her outstretched hands back in. Emily had already braced herself and regained her balance. If Garcia reached for her now, she would be embarrassed and brush her off. Garcia settled for keeping her eyes on Emily's pained face. A split second later, Emily's eyes opened and she straightened. She turned to leave, but Garcia stood in her way.

"I'm fine." Emily said before Garcia could even ask. "I just stood up too fast. I'm not used to staring at computers all day."

Garcia continued to stare at her, and they stood for a few moments in a silent battle of wills.

"You're sure?" Garcia finally spoke.

"Yes Pen. Really, I'm fine." Emily gave her a smile.

Garcia conceded and stepped aside to let Emily pass to the doorway. She shook her head and quickly grabbed her notebook and feathery pen from the desk before following Emily down the hall.

JJ met them at the door to the briefing room with a smile. Her smile fell slightly when she got a good like at Emily's tired appearance.

"Is everyone already here?" Emily asked. She leaned over and peeked around JJ into the room.

"We're still waiting on Hotch and Rossi. Are you okay?" JJ replied.

"Yeah, fine." Emily said quickly. "I just need to use the restroom really quick. If they beat me back, start without me."

Emily turned and set off in the direction of the restrooms. JJ watched her friend hurry across the bullpen and disappear down the hall. She turned to Garcia, whose face held the same concern that JJ felt.

"She says she's fine." Garcia answered the unspoken question with a shrug.

JJ took another quick glance at the now empty hallway where Emily had disappeared. With a sigh, she turned with Garcia and joined Morgan and Reid at the table in the briefing room. If Emily said she was fine, JJ wouldn't pry. Not just yet.

* * *

><p>Emily gripped the edge of the sink and let her head sag between her shoulders for a moment. She took a few deep breaths before letting go and digging into her bag for the pill bottle she had tossed into it before leaving the house. She hoped the Motrin tablets would be enough to ward off the hammering headache that had been creeping in on her all morning. She really should have brought her prescription meds, but she hated taking them. They made her very tired and made her head feel as if were full of sand. She couldn't think clearly when she was on them. The Motrin would have to suffice.<p>

She shook four tablets into her palm, and tossed them into her mouth. She turned on the faucet, cupped her hand and scooped the water into her mouth. Tilting her head back, she swallowed the pills and took a look at herself in the mirror. She grimaced at her appearance. Her eyes held the telltale redness from a night of very little sleep. The dark circles under them made it impossible to blame the computer screens for the irritation. She'd be stupid to believe anyone on the team would believe her if she tried. With a sigh, she scooped and splashed the cold water into her face and let it drip down her chin into the sink. The shock of the freezing liquid stung her eyes and made her instantly alert. She stared at her dripping face for a moment before quickly grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser and drying her face. She glanced at her watch and tossed the Motrin bottle back into her bag and hurried out to rejoin the team.

Emily rounded the corner to the bullpen just as Hotch was stepping out of his office with Rossi close behind. His eyes immediately found her and a look of concern flashed over his features. She wordlessly answered his concerns with a nod and a smile and briskly strode into the briefing room. Hotch and Rossi entered only a few seconds after she had taken her seat. Rossi gave her a small smile as he took the seat next to her. Hotch did a quick headcount before turning to JJ and nodding for her to begin.

"This is Owen Taylor." JJ pointed to a headshot photo of their victim as it popped up on the board next to her. "His body was discovered by DC police after an anonymous phone call. Owen's wife Carol said she saw her husband last night when he told her he was going to meet a colleague for dinner. He never came home."

JJ clicked the remote in her hand and the projector spat a half dozen crime scene photos onto the board. She gave the team a few seconds to inspect them all before continuing.

"Owen was found strapped to a chair with his throat cut, by what CSU guessed was a large, and very sharp, military style KA-BAR knife. It looks like Owen was stabbed just under his ear, before the UnSub pulled the knife out forward through the front of his neck, severing everything in its path." JJ trailed off with slight grimace.

"He slit his throat from the inside out?" Reid said quickly, "That says this UnSub is showing zero hesitation in taking someone's life. Not only would the knife have to be incredibly sharp, but it would take a very steady hand to cut through the esophagus and trachea in one clean motion like that."

"It's somewhat disturbing that you know that." Prentiss said, frowning at the genius. JJ ignored the comment and continued.

"Unfortunately, DCPD is stalling. We haven't received the autopsy report, and technically, other than the consult this morning, we haven't been invited in on the case."

"Invited or not, I want us to come up with as much of a profile of this UnSub as possible. I want to have something for them, if and when they come asking for it." Hotch glanced around the table to each of his agents. "We may not have much on the crime scene, but we can dig into the who and why. Garcia, what do we know about Taylor?"

Garcia stood and walked around the table, setting a folder in front of each of the agents as she spoke.

"The ATF has done a pretty good job in turning the guy's life inside out, so I didn't really have to dig to find his everyday activities. He spent most of his time working from his home in Bethesda, where he runs a private contractor security company called, Elite International. They supply private security details all over the world. I ran all of the licenses and permits, and it's all legit."

"That would explain how he was able to make contacts in firearms manufacturing companies." Rossi said. "ATF believed he wasn't supplying the guns to his company, but to outside parties."

"There's got to be a paper trail somewhere. I doubt he'd be taking payments for the guns in cash. He'd be crazy to meet up with anyone in person, and there's no way he would trust someone else with that much cash." Prentiss said, flipping through the file.

"Slow your roll people," Garcia lifted her hands to shush them; "I'm getting there. I noticed a couple small amount transfers into his wife Carol's bank account. At first I didn't think anything of it. What's a couple thousand dollars from a wealthy businessman to his shopaholic wife? But something didn't sit quite right with me and I remembered what someone once told me. Follow the money. So I did, and I found this."

Garcia took the remote from JJ and stood to take her position at the white board. The overhead projector flashed and the crime scene photos were replaced by several bank statement scans. The team stared blankly at the sheets for a few moments, and Garcia waited for one of them to notice the slight difference.

"She transferred it back out." Rossi finally said.

"Bingo!" Garcia smiled, "Six different payments of less than five thousand dollars were transferred from Owen to Carol over the last six months. ATF isn't interested in small potatoes. They look for the big payouts. That's why they missed it. So, after some searching, and I mean some serious digging, I was able to track the account where they transferred it to."

Garcia clicked the remote again and the scans on the board rotated out, making space for the smattering of new bank statements. She watched, smiling proudly as all eyes on her went from confused intrigue to alert and focused.

"Whoa." Prentiss said quietly. "That's a little more like it."

"Close to thirty-nine million dollars, yeah, I'd say _whoa_ about sums it up."Garcia said, "Over the last two year, large sums; and I'm talking multi-million large, have been deposited into this account from various locations. The account is registered to a Phillip Gilchrest, and was opened two years ago with a beginning balance of fourteen million."

"It's Taylor's business account," Hotch said. "He moves the money so the ATF can't track it. Gilchrest is an alias."

"Give the man a prize!" Garcia smiled. "I spent hours searching, and I concluded that Phillip Gilchrest miraculously came into existence only months before opening that account. Who does exist though, is one Thomas Sikes, whose bank account is responsible for more than half of these deposits."

A black and white surveillance photo popped up on the screen. The image showed two armed men in dark camouflage clothing standing next to a tall, clean cut man in an expensive looking suit. The suited man was talking into a cell phone, and appeared unaware of the photographer hidden in the distance. No one in the room missed the telltale bulge at the man's side. He was armed and appeared very comfortable in the presence of the two men, and their assault rifles.

"This photo was taken of Thomas Sikes during an FBI anti-terrorism investigation. Sikes was suspected of running and supplying a domestic terrorist sector just outside of DC. He is currently in federal custody pending the outcome of his sentencing."

"So Taylor was selling guns to a terrorist group, and now he's dead," Morgan said, "I hate to say it, but I think Detective Kimble was right."

Rossi's phone slid across the table in front of him as it vibrated from the incoming call. He watched if for a second before picking it up and reading the caller ID screen. He quickly excused himself from the room and answered it. A moment later he burst back in, surprising the team.

"That was Kimble. They've got another body."

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><p><em>Author's Note: Another dialog lengthy chapter I know! But this story is a juggling act with a bunch of different things mingling together. If I don't build the back story and give you all the details, I drop a ball and it crashes down on my toes! Having said that, I promise things will pick up in the next chapter. Click it and let me know what you think!<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: Stupid site screwed up my hit counter and review alerts for my last chapter! I have no idea if you all liked it or not. Oh well, Here is another LONG chapter for you for your patience. Just a reminder, this story is set in earlier seasons. JJ is still a media liaison. I had fun writing this one. I hope you enjoy reading it! and Oh yeah, I don't write pairings! Read on!_

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><p>The small briefing room erupted into a flurry of activity. All agents stood and began collecting all of the papers and photos that had scattered across the table. They stuffed them back into their file folders and Garcia quickly shut off the overhead projector.<p>

"Ok, Listen up." Hotch barked over the noise and the room fell silent. "This just became a federal case. JJ, get DCPD on the phone and have them fax over everything they have on this morning's crime scene ASAP, and prep a media statement. The press is going to be all over this. We may have just stumbled into a terrorist operation, and have two dead in less than twenty-four hours. I don't need to stress how fast we need to move here. Morgan and Rossi head to the crime scene. Reid, I want you to help JJ with local PD, we're going to need their cooperation. I'm going to see about getting in to speak with Thomas Sikes."

As the team collected their things and filed out of the room, Hotch held Emily back with a gentle hand. Once the room was clear he spoke.

"Emily, we need you in the field with us on this. I need to know you're up for it."

Her jaw dropped slightly at the intensity in his eyes. She felt pinned to the floor and wracked her brain for both an honest answer, and one he wanted to hear. She finally located an answer that satisfied each requirement and squared her shoulders before speaking.

"I'm fine Hotch. Let me go out there and do my job." She let her eyes soften a little. "I'm off the meds and if at any point I feel like I'm not fine, I will let you know."

Hotch considered her words for a moment before letting his hand drop from her arm and nodding. "Get your things and go with Morgan and Rossi to the crime scene."

* * *

><p>Ben adjusted the lever on the rented BMW's instrument panel to turn up the defroster. He had chosen a far corner parking spot in the uncovered lot near the front of the building, where he had a clear view of the front lobby doors. The rain had started a steady drizzle again, and he glanced at the clock readout on the dash. He had been sitting for three hours, with no sign of the agent. Twice he had to duck low into the seat to avoid being seen by passing security guards. He was sure he could make up an excuse for sitting in the parking lot, but for three hours was pushing the lines of believable excuses. If one of them actually stopped to speak with him, he would have to find a new location shortly after. Thus far, he had managed to remain undetected.<p>

It was getting late in the afternoon, and the parking garage across the way was beginning to empty out as Quantico's employees left for the day. At first he had jumped forward, straining his eyes to see through the window when a brunette woman exited the building. None of them had been Prentiss, and he was beginning to doubt that she was even back at work. He had seen a couple of her colleagues, probably returning from the crime scene where he had seen them on the news. As he unwrapped the sandwich he had picked up on the drive over, he hoped the day wouldn't be a bust, and he got at least one good photograph.

Just as he was about to give up and call it a day, both double doors to the lobby flew open and spat out a blur of activity. Ben dropped his sandwich into his lap and fumbled with the camera, flashing a photo of own hand in the process. He watched them through the zoomed in view finder and clicked away as they hurried from the front lobby toward the parking garage. Rossi led the group, closely followed by the bastard that had shot him, and finally Prentiss.

She was hurrying to catch up with her partners as she pulled her jacket up over her shoulders against the chilled rain. She slowed for a moment and turned her head, looking right at him. Ben ducked down in the seat, forgetting that he had been looking through an expensive lens, zoomed in from a distance. There's no way she could have seen him so far away. He risked sitting back up and lifted the camera to his eye. She was still standing, but her attention had moved and she was talking to the blonde agent and the wiry Dr. Reid that burst through the doors behind her. Ben let out the breath he'd been holding and resumed taking photos until they split off into different groups in the parking garage.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he spoke to himself.

He quickly shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and fumbled to put the car in gear. He hadn't planned on following any of them home today, but he found himself drawn into their haste. He had to know where they were going. The mountain in Montana had been his terrain, his element, and they had proven to adapt to it. On their own turf, they were deadly, and the idea of beating them in their own home thrilled him. To do that, he would need a plan. He would need to observe them at their best, in their own element. So he pulled the BMW from the parking lot, and waited until he saw the two black SUV's pull from the garage. With a final sip of his warm soda, he pulled out behind them.

* * *

><p>The flashing police lights and bustling scene immediately stood out against the meticulously manicured lawns and immaculate security gates of one of DC's most predominately wealthy neighborhoods. Morgan groaned as he pulled the SUV down the street and they saw the chaos.<p>

"Guess Hotch was right about the media." Prentiss grumbled from the backseat.

Morgan pulled the SUV up to the edge of the crowd and ignored the flashing cameras and shouting reporters as he gave a short whoop of the siren and hit the concealed lights. The guarding police officers forced the crowd aside and moved the barricades, allowing the SUV to pass through the media nightmare. They drove up the long driveway and pulled to a stop behind the line of patrol cars. Detective Kimble was already out of the house and moving toward them when they climbed out of the SUV.

"Agents." Kimble shook their hands. "I've been told this is your case now."

"We've linked Owen Taylor to an open federal investigation. I'm sorry, but that makes it a federal case." Rossi answered.

They quickly followed the Detective across the grassy courtyard to the large Victorian style house and ducked under the yellow tape to enter the large foyer.

"Did you see that circus out there?" Kimble snorted. "I'm more than happy to hand this one over. Files have already been sent. We're just support here now."

Kimble led them down the length of the hallway and passed a standing patrolman into the large living area.

"His name is Richard O'Brien." Kimble said, "His wife Michelle found him after picking up their kids from a school basketball game a little over an hour ago. Single gunshot wound to the head. We've got people talking to the neighbors, but it doesn't sound like anyone heard or saw anything."

A crime scene tech was flashing pictures over the body in the center of the room. The agents slowly circled the body with trained eyes scanning every detail. The man lay face down in a deep puddle of blood from the gaping hole in his head. He was bound at the wrists and ankles with thick nylon rope. Rossi crouched down near the man's head and studied the fatal wound while Morgan and Prentiss moved away from the body to search the rest of the room.

"There's burn residue around the entry point." Rossi said, eyeing the wound on the man's forehead. "The UnSub was standing close when he pulled the trigger."

Emily walked slowly around the large living room, eyes scanning every detail. She carefully stepped around spattering of blood across the hardwood floor behind the coffee table. She frowned at the drying substance and paced around the corner of the table. The blood spatter covered the entire table's surface at one edge while the other side remained semi-unmarred.

"He was kneeling." She thought aloud. All eyes in the room turned to her and she pointed down at the table. "There's no blood on the wall. The victim is tall enough, if he were standing, the backsplash would have been present on the wall, but it's not. It's down on the table and floor."

She pointed to the body on the floor then motioned with her hand as if she were holding an invisible gun. "The UnSub ties his hands and feet and has him kneeling, then fires at a downward angle."

Rossi and Morgan slowly walked the short distance to her sides and instantly agreed with the observation. The scene gradually came together in their minds as they all came to the same conclusion. The UnSub had tied up his victim and forced him to his knees before calmly placing a gun to his head, and pulling the trigger. It was quick, clean, and one hundred percent effective.

"Are you saying this guy was executed in his own living room in broad daylight?" Kimble asked with an edge in his voice. "Who the hell is this guy?"

Morgan ignored the Detective's question and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed the speed dial button to his favorite technical analyst. She answered the after the first ring.

"Speak and be heard." Her voice chirped through the phone's speaker.

"Garcia, you're on speaker." He warned.

"Why do you tease me?"

"Don't start." Morgan laughed. "Hey, we need you to find everything you can on Richard O'Brien. See if you can find anything to link him to Owen Taylor. I don't care how small a connection it is."

"I'm way ahead of you." Her fingers flew over the keyboard in a practiced tap dance. "I ran the address the minute you left and I already have your connection. Richard O'Brien was just released from prison less than two weeks ago."

"Let me guess, weapons charges?"

"You're so cute when you jump to conclusions." She teased. "But no. Actually he was convicted of eight counts of fraudulent documentation charges. He served only ninety days of his sentence before making his cash bail of 1.5 million. Apparently creating phony identities pays very well."

"Who posted his bail?" Rossi shouted across the room.

"I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count." When no one spoke she continued, "Alright I'll give you a hint, it starts with Phillip and rhymes with Hillcrest."

"O'Brien must have supplied Taylor with the weapon documentation so no one would notice the discrepancies in his company's accounts. He probably even created his aliases." Rossi spoke after moving to Morgan's side.

"There you go jumping to conclusions again." The phone squawked at them. "However this time you're right. O'Brien was found in possession of numerous passports, printing presses, and other identity making doohickeys. Let's just say if you needed to disappear and become someone else in this town, O'Brien was the guy to talk to."

"You're the best Garcia." Morgan smiled to the phone.

"I know." She replied and disconnected the call.

* * *

><p>It took them another hour to complete their assessment of the crime scene, and the sun was slowly beginning its decent behind the clouds when Rossi's phone rang. He answered with a crisp greeting and after listening to JJ's short announcement on the other end, he motioned Prentiss over.<p>

"JJ and Reid just pulled in outside. I'm going to talk to Mrs. O'Brien. Can you go help them with the statement for the press?"

Prentiss narrowed her brow at him. "Okay, but you owe me." She teased.

She pulled the latex gloves from her hands and disposed them into the bin provided by CSU outside the living room door, before pulling her jacket back on and stepping outside. JJ and Reid were standing in the driveway next to the SUV and turned when they saw her coming.

"Is it our UnSub?" JJ asked once she was close enough that she was sure no one would overhear them.

"Pretty sure," Emily said, "This one was shot, but the MO is basically the same. No sign of entry or exit, victim tied with nylon rope, and executed. Garcia found a solid connection between the victims. What are you gonna tell the press?"

"Very little; that the Bureau has taken over the investigation and that we don't know anything yet." JJ shrugged. "I just want to make it quick. It's cold and wet out here. Hotch wants to regroup back at the office after this too. I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

Emily groaned her displeasure. "Let's get this over with then, shall we?"

They quickly covered the distance of the driveway and were immediately assaulted by shouting and camera lights as the crowd came to life as they spotted them. JJ plastered her best professional smile on her face and Reid and Prentiss stood slightly behind her at her sides. They slowly scanned the crowd as JJ addressed them.

"I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with the FBI's Behavioral Analyst Unit." JJ began.

"Agent Jareau, Is the FBI taking over this investigation?"

"Was this the same killer that murdered Owen Taylor this morning?"

"Do you have any suspects at this point?"

The questions flew from every direction and JJ struggled to hear them all. She raised her hand and fought the urge to shout back at them to let her talk. After a moment, they took her raised hand as a hint and quieted.

"The FBI has taken over the investigation into both Owen Taylor, and Richard O'Brien's deaths. The BAU currently has Agents going over the crime scenes." She started again, "Since we have only just begun our investigation, it is unclear whether the murders were committed by the same person. Until our Agents are given time to process both crime scenes, any other information at this point would be merely speculation."

Emily scanned the crowd of reporters and cameramen as they listened intently to the brief update. The moment JJ's voice trailed off they erupted again, yelling their disappointment in the lack of information and Emily was instantly reminded of her distain for being in the public eye. She didn't envy JJ's position as the team's media liaison, and had always respected her friend's ability to keep her cool.

As she scanned the faces of the crowd, a flash bulb went off to her left, blinding her and making her flinch. She blinked against the spots that danced across her vision and her heart stopped in her chest at the face staring back at her, through the unfocused blur. She blinked again as another flash assaulted her from right in front of his smiling face. She had to take a step back, and divert her eyes for a moment, as the spots made her dizzy. She heard her name just next to her, and lifted her head to see Reid standing closer to her and directly behind JJ. He stood straight with his hands folded in front of him, trying not to draw any attention to them, but his concerned eyes were focused only on her.

"Emily?" he whispered again.

She blinked hard and turned her head back to the crowd. Her eyes instantly went to the space in the crowd where she swore she had seen him. The face she had seen was gone, now replaced with that of a scruffy cameraman who focused his lens on JJ as she spoke. Emily scanned the crowd desperately, feeling her anxiety lessen when she only noticed a few of the onlookers had noticed her unusual behavior. Luckily, none of them held cameras or microphones. She couldn't swallow the lump in her throat though, as her heart pounded in her chest. Had she only imagined him? Surely he wouldn't risk such a public appearance. She had to have imagined it.

Suddenly the camera lights turned off and JJ stepped back and turned with Reid right next to her. Their movement pulled Emily's attention and they turned their backs to the scattering crowd and quickly started walking back toward the house.

"Are you okay?" JJ whispered to Emily.

"Yeah," Emily answered too quickly, "yeah, I'm good."

JJ watched as Emily continued to walk forward, refusing to look at her. JJ had seen Emily flinch at the flashing lights and fought to keep her attention on the press conference. In her peripherals, she could see Reid move slightly over before Emily shook herself out of whatever effect that had struck her and quickly recovered her stance. JJ fought the relief she felt from showing on her face. None of the reports seemed to have seen the reaction of the woman at her side. Once they reached the SUV, JJ pulled open the door, effectively shielding them from the eyes any unwanted stragglers with cameras.

"Emily, sit down for a second." JJ said quietly.

Emily turned around surprised by the sudden demand. JJ stood next to the open door and the look on her face told her that it had not been a suggestion.

"JJ, I'm…"

"Fine, I know." JJ cut her off. "Sit."

Emily rolled her eyes and shuffled to the open door and sat back against the floor in front of the backseat. The position was awkward with the edge of the seat against her back, so she leaned forward and put her hands on her knees.

"What happened?" JJ asked.

"The lights, they just threw me off for a second. It's nothing, really." Emily let her eyes close against the building throb in her skull and tilted her head back and brought her hand to the back of her neck to stretch the tense muscles there.

"What happened after that?" JJ crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the door.

Emily's eyes opened and she looked suspiciously at her friend. "What do you mean?"

JJ turned her eyes downward, pushing at a small pebble with the toe of her shoe and sighed. "I know you Em. You looked freaked out."

Emily paled and her jaw dropped slightly. JJ had noticed and had called her out on it. She suddenly found the pebble very interesting and watched JJ push it around for a moment, thinking of how to explain what she had seen without sounding crazy. Finally, she decided to just tell her the truth. JJ was her one of her best friends, she would understand.

"I thought I saw Lambert."

JJ's eyes shot up to Emily's face in surprise. She hadn't prepared a response to that answer and her heart sank when Emily looked up at her. She looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.

"Where?" JJ asked.

"In the crowd, with the reporters. It was only for a split second, then he was gone." Emily replied.

JJ thought hard over her next question for a moment, slightly afraid of the answer. "Emily, how many times have you seen him?"

Emily let out a sudden huff of a laugh and leaned forward with her elbows braced on her knees. "This was the first time."

JJ released a silent breath of relief.

"God, I must be losing my mind." Emily said quietly with a smirk.

"You aren't losing your mind. You're just tired Em." JJ said. "It's only your first day back. Don't overdo it. "

Emily stood, nodding at JJ's words, and stretched her neck. "Thanks Jayje."

"Oh, and don't worry about the camera flashes. Those things drive me nuts too." They shared a smile and walked up to the house to join the rest of the team to help wrap up the crime scene before returning to the office.

* * *

><p>Hotch was waiting for them when they drug themselves through the briefing room door and filed into their seats at the table. He had already gone over the files sent over by DCPD and had distributed copies in front of each other their chairs. It was getting late, and he didn't want to keep them longer than he had to.<p>

"How did it go?" he asked as soon as they'd settled.

"Just like Taylor." Morgan answered, "In and out, tied up the vic and a quick, efficient kill."

"Garcia filled me in on the connection to Owen Taylor." Hotch nodded. "I received the files from DCPD earlier this afternoon and they really don't contain much more then we already know. However, shortly after you arrived at the O'Brien residence, I received a phone call from Detective Winslow with DCPD. They discovered two more bodies in the trunk of Owen Taylor's car. The car was parked in a few miles away from the warehouse, under an overpass."

Hotch lifted a photo of the open trunk of a silver Mercedes. Everyone shuffled through the files in front of them and pulled the photos out and steadied them as he spoke. The two bodies, both clad in black tactical uniforms.

"What does the arm patch say?" Prentiss lifted the photo up close, straining her eyes to read the small print on slightly visible patch on the shoulder of one of the dead men.

"Elite International," Hotch answered, "Taylor's security company. The victims were identified as Eric Hauser and James Fields, both employees of the company."

"Well that answers the question as to why a warehouse full of guns was left unguarded." Rossi said.

"The garrote wire used to kill them recovered still wrapped around Eric Hauser's neck." Hotch continued, "There were no prints or identifiable marks anywhere on it."

Hotch pulled another set of photos from the file and directed the team to do the same. They looked over the image of what appeared to be scattered impressions in the sand near the edge of the building. Once they had refocused on him, he retrieved a printout blueprint of the warehouse and lifted it for them to see.

"The photos you're looking at were taken on both the north and south ends of the warehouse, near the only access points." Hotch pointed to the areas and the blueprint and circled them with a red marker.

"This is where the UnSub took out the guards?" Rossi said. Hotch nodded.

"So the UnSub hides out in the dark and waits for the guard to come around the corner." Morgan thought aloud, "then he gets the drop on them and strangles them. With the element of surprise and tool like a garrote wire, it would be easy for him to take them out quickly."

"The other guard is posted all the way on the other side of the warehouse," Prentiss added, "There's no way he'd hear anything. He'd walk into the exact same trap."

"The autopsy report came back as well," Hotch said, "and just as suspected, Owen died from massive blood loss. However, his Tox screens showed a trace amount of Phenobarbital in his system."

"He was sedated?" Reid asked, shuffling through the papers for the autopsy report.

"With small doses," Hotch nodded, "Only trace amounts showed up on the report suggesting it had already begun to wear off before he was killed."

"That must be how the UnSub got him into position at the warehouse." Reid spoke quickly, "He drugs him with the Phenobarbital and straps him to the chair while he's still unconscious. He would have had to take out the guards first."

"Richard O'Brien was tied as well, but his wife Michelle said she had only been away from the house for a few hours. Is that enough time for the drug to wear off?" Rossi asked, "Richard would have had to be conscious to be kneeling."

Reid frowned, and shook his head no.

"Why did he take the time to tie him up if he was just gonna shoot him?" Prentiss thought aloud, studying the photo.

The room went silent for a moment as everyone thought on the obvious question that had eluded them. Hotch pulled the two separate crime scene photos and set them in the center of the table and they all leaned in to compare them.

"It's the knots." Reid blurted out. He tapped his finger against the photo, emphasizing his observation. "The knots are the same."

"They're knots, Reid." Morgan said skeptically.

"Yeah, but they're not typical knots." Reid shot to his feet. "Garcia, can you bring up these two photos on the projector and zoom in on the knots?"

Garcia had been sitting quietly listening and jumped up at the request. She quickly grabbed the photos and stuck them into the scanner at the back of the room. She clicked away at a few keys and the overhead projector powered up and JJ dimmed the lights. The team watched with interest as the images appeared on the screen and Garcia manipulated them, rotating and zooming until both were large clear images of identical knots.

"See look," Reid stood and wracked his hand against the large pictures, "look at the pattern of the rope ends. It's an alternating up down up down pattern with end crossings on opposite sides."

"You lost me." Morgan said.

"This could be the UnSub's signature." Reid said, "If I can identify the style of knot, I may be able to narrow down occupations or hobbies where it would be commonly used."

Garcia shot from her seat again and ripped her laptop computer from its bedazzled pink case that she had tucked under her chair. "Hold on, I can help you with that."

They watched her in confusion as the laptop powered up and she swiped her finger frantically over the cursor sensor as if it would speed up the upload. Once the screen had powered up she set the laptop in the center of the table and turned the screen to face them. She clicked at the icon and the speakers wailed a sharp mechanical ring.

"Come on." Garcia said quietly, tapping her fingernails against the computer. "Pick up."

"I swear Penelope, Someone better be dead." The voice crackled through the speakers as the video feed popped up on the screen.

"Two someone's actually" Garcia said, "Look alive, you've got an audience."

The team sat awkwardly around the table staring at the young woman in her pajamas. Apparently, their late night conference call had woken her. Her face fell at Garcia's announcement and she straightened in her chair.

"Uh, can you see me?" she asked.

"Sorry Cass," Emily gave her a sympathetic wave and the woman blushed.

"Garcia?" Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and she jumped, turning the screen to face the images on the board.

"Cassi, what is this?" Garcia tapped the board with the end of her pen and watched the woman blink away the sleep she'd been pulled from.

"It's a knot." Cassi answered.

Morgan threw his hands up in the air to say _I told you so_ and Emily laughed at the look of annoyance on Reid's face.

"I know it's a knot," Garcia rolled her eyes, "What kind of knot?"

Cassi rubbed her hands over eyes and pulled her glasses on and leaned in closer to the screen. The Agents sat and waited, slightly amused.

"Looks like a Carrick." Cassi said and sat back in her seat.

"A what?"

Garcia spun the computer on the table until it the screen faced Hotch, who had asked the question.

"A Carrick," She repeated, "or in your case, a full Carrick. It's pretty much just a modified Sailor's knot."

"What's it used for?" Rossi asked.

Cassi's eyebrow went up her forehead in confusion and she tilted her head at the sound of the voice. "How many of you are over there?"

"Seven." Reid answered.

"Cassi, the knot." Hotch pulled her back on track.

"Right sorry, um, it's used for a lot," She scratched her head, unaware that her hair was sticking up and matted on one side, "mostly just to secure things. I use them a lot in rappelling. They also work really well in wet environments where other knots will slip and jam."

"Why would someone use one to bind someone's hands together?" Emily asked.

"Someone's hands?" Cassi frowned, "I don't know, maybe because they don't give. You tie someone up with a Carrick, they aren't going anywhere."

The team sat quietly for a moment, considering the new information.

"Who would know how to tie one?" Reid asked.

"Military personnel, recreationalists, fisherman, I don't know, but if they used it to tie someone's hands, I'd assume they'd have to be fast at it. They take practice to do properly, so I think they'd have to it frequently."

Hotch listened to the woman's description and studied the images on the board as she spoke. The intricate weave confused him and he agreed with her assumption of the amount of practice it would take to tie it.

"Thank you Cassi, sorry we woke you." Hotch said, "I know you are consulting on another case for us, but can we call you back if we find something else related in this one?"

"I guess. Does this have anything to do with those murders I saw on the news?" she asked.

"It does." Hotch grimaced. "But I have to remind you that all details to open investigations are…"

"Classified," she interrupted, "yes I know. This isn't my first rodeo."

Garcia smiled at the comment and retrieved the laptop. Hotch thanked Cassi again for her help and Garcia closed the lid, hanging up the call.

They spent another half hour going over the new and old information and comparing them before Hotch finally noticed Emily fighting to keep her focus. He checked his watch and mentally kicked himself for keeping them so late. He had wanted her first day back to go smoothly for her. He had seen the news feed, and noticed her slight falter at the corner of the screen. She was struggling, though she would never admit to it. Finally he closed the file in front of him and called it a night. He watched her shuffle slowly to her desk to retrieve her things and he followed her.

"Prentiss," he spoke quietly, "Let me drive you home."

"Oh," she shook her head, "you don't have to do that Hotch."

"I know, but it's late and it's been a really long day. You could barely keep your eyes open in there. I'd feel better if you let me drive you."

Emily blushed, embarrassed that he'd caught her.

"Okay. Thank you."

He quickly retrieved his things from his office and they bid the rest of the team a good night from the parking garage before heading off to their homes for some much deserved sleep. Hotch couldn't help but appreciate the one perk of working a case so close to home. They could all enjoy their nights in the comfort of their own homes.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: So? Did you like it? Click it an let me know!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: *Taps toe disapprovingly* What happened to all my old regular reviewers? Thank you so much to those of you that reviewed my last couple of Chapters and special thanks to kp4377 for your constant reassurance and motivation! Couldn't do it without you! Okay, enough flattery, Read On!_

* * *

><p>Lambert burst through the door to his hotel room, smiling like a medieval court jester. He tossed the camera onto the bed and immediately flipped on the television and flipped through the channels, searching for the news that he knew would be airing. He was still buzzing from the thrill he'd gotten from the crime scene.<p>

When he'd noticed Prentiss approaching the crowd of news reporter, he'd only meant to step in closer for a better look. He'd stayed low behind the crowd, watching her as her eyes scanned over him, over and over again. A sudden burst of a flash bulb over his head startled him and when he looked back over, she was looking right at him. His heart had stopped and everything around him screeched to a halt. Her dark eyes bore into him and he felt his mouth move into a predatory smile. As time slowly moved to resume its pace, his heart began pounding in his chest and he found himself wondering if hers was doing the same. Another sharp pop of a camera bulb flashed in front of him and she involuntary blinked against it, turning her head slightly away. He took the brief opportunity, and crouched down behind a burly camera operator and stayed low as he shuffled away and took cover behind a nearby news van. It had all happened in mere seconds, and for a moment he expected her to come charging around van, gun drawn at his head. He closed his eyes, fighting against the manic laughter that threatened to bubble from his chest, and leaned his head back against the cool metal of the van. He stood that way for a few moments, until the crowd began to disperse. He risked a glance around the van, and saw the retreating backs of the three agents as they climbed made their way up the grassy yard back in the direction of the house.

"There you are." He spoke quietly to the TV screen.

He stepped back slowly, sitting on the bottom edge of the bed, keeping his eyes fixated on the breaking news report. The sound of the crowd erupting into a barrage of question broke through the speakers and he muted it. He had no interest in what they were saying. His attention was focused on the brunette, half cut off by the edge of TV. The cameras flashed and there it was; their moment. She stiffened and stared straight passed the camera. She had definitely seen him. It had only lasted a second, but the brief interaction would stay in his mind much longer than the dozens of photographs he'd taken at her office.

Ben stood from the bed, retrieved the camera and powered up the laptop on the small desk. For the first time since their confrontation on the mountain, he felt completely alive. He had never felt so completely drawn to one person, one target, before. He suddenly understood Paul's obsession with Rossi. He thought back to their time in Montana; the sound of her ragged breathing in his ear as he'd carried her limp body from the mangled SUV, and the fire in her eyes before he'd struck her down and made his escape. No, Agent Prentiss was no ordinary woman.

He removed the memory card from the camera and stuck it into the computer and flipped through the photos with a smile. His trip to Quantico had been gold. He already knew he would have to make the trip again, only this time, he would be early. He wanted to be there when she arrived in the morning; to see her fresh out of bed and oblivious to the dangers lurking so close, but unseen. But first, he needed a suit.

* * *

><p>"Of course I'm taking precautions!"<p>

Five year old Randy Larson was used to his father's yelling when he was on the phone, but his hand slamming down on the desk made him jump and turn away from the TV. His father noticed he was looking at him, and lowered his voice.

"I don't think we're blown with the feds yet," he said into the receiver, "but they're not the ones I'm worried about. I don't care that they have Sikes on lockdown. We'll have him out in a couple of days. I want you to focus on Archer…"

Randy tuned out the one ended conversation and turned his attention back to the large flatscreen. Daniel Larson was a very important man, and when they were at his office, Randy felt important because everyone called him Mr. Larson. Randy liked when his father brought him to his office. The TV was smaller than the one they had at home, but the office had a tiny refrigerator that his father had told him was _Randy sized_. He had even surprised him once with a large piece of cake that he'd tucked in among the sodas and water bottles, especially for Randy.

"Daddy, can I have a soda?" Randy asked over his shoulder.

His father ignored him and continued spitting orders into the phone. Randy rolled over onto his stomach and dug his elbows into the carpet to prop himself up to look at his father.

"Dad?"

"Randy," his voice held an edge, "I'm on the phone. Watch your cartoons; I'll be done in a minute."

Randy rolled his eyes and dramatically dropped his face down into the carpet. He was bored and he'd already seen the cartoon a million times. He really wanted to go out and play on the elevator. It was completely made of glass and he could see everything when he took it all the way to the top. But his father had told him that elevators weren't for playing in. Maybe when his father was off the phone, Randy would ask him if he could go down to the lobby and talk to Waldo at the security desk. He liked Waldo. He was big and carried a gun on his side. All of the building security guards had guns, but Randy liked Waldo best.

"I want you to destroy everything we have on Foster." His father was yelling again. "Do it right now, tonight! Understand? Hello? Rico?"

Randy lifted his head at the change in his father's voice, and watched as he hung up the phone and pressed the intercom button on the desk. "Waldo, I lost my phone."

Waldo didn't answer and they jumped at the loud pop and hiss from the TV's speakers as the cartoon was reduced to white static and then went dark. Randy pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and before he could ask what was happening, the room went completely dark.

"Daddy?" Randy rarely called his father _Daddy_. It made him sound like a baby; and he was almost six. But right now he didn't care. It was dark, and he was scared.

A dim red light came on in the far corner of the room, casting shadows from the furniture on the walls. Just as Randy's eyes had adjusted he caught sight of his father rushing around the desk toward him. He yelped in surprise as his father roughly yanked him up from the floor and carried him quickly across the room. Randy was terrified now, and he didn't care that he was crying.

"Daddy, I'm scared." He confessed.

Randy jumped, clawing at the back of his father's neck and shoulders when he ripped open the door to the adjoining bathroom with a crash.

"It's okay Randy." His father's voice was right in his ear and his hands went to his waist, pulling him away.

Randy didn't want to let go, but his father pried his hands away from his neck and bent over to set him on the tile floor.

"I want you to get in here and be very quiet." His father yanked open the door to the bottom cabinet, which was normally Randy's favorite hide and seek hiding spot.

"I don't want to." Randy shook his head frantically. He didn't want to play hide and seek. His father didn't accept his refusal, and pushed him into the small space. Randy cried out and his father's hand shot up to cover his mouth.

"Shhh, it's okay," Daniel opened the top cabinet and ripped out a towel, dropping the small stack onto his head and floor. "Cover your mouth with this and be very quiet."

Randy took the towel that his father tucked in around him and lifted it up against his mouth and nodded. A look crossed over his father's face that he had never seen before and he was confused by it. He didn't have time to think it through before his father's large hand pulled his head forward against his lips, and he kissed him on the forehead.

"I love you Randy. Now stay here and don't come out no matter what you hear."

Before Randy could say anything, the cabinet door slammed shut and his father was gone. A second later, a loud crash from the office outside made him jump and he buried his face into the towel. He could hear his father yelling, followed by another loud crash and banging against the walls. Randy buried his face into his knees and fought to keep quiet when the world outside exploded with a loud pop and went silent. For a moment he thought it would be okay to come out, but his father's words to stay hidden rang in his head. He tried hard to control his breathing when he heard the soft sounds of footsteps on the carpet coming closer. The bathroom door creaked open and a shadow passed by the tiny crack in the cabinet door and he bit into the towel and clenched his eyes shut. He covered his ears against the footsteps tapping softly across the tile as whoever they belonged to walked around the small bathroom.

A slight cooling in the air around him, and a minimal change to the light through his eyelids made his heart stop. Even with his eyes closed and ears covered, he knew the cabinet door had been opened. He'd been found. He turned his head toward the open door and slowly opened his eyes. His wide eyes immediately settled on the gun gripped loosely in a gloved hand, pointed toward the floor in front of him. He looked up, trying to see who was holding it, but the top of edge of the cabinet above him blocked his view. Suddenly the stranger spoke and he flinched at the strange mechanical voice.

"Close your eyes kid."

_I love you too Dad._ He suddenly thought before the world around him plunged into darkness.

* * *

><p>Less than five hours after leaving the office for the night, the team once again found themselves gathering around the briefing room table. Emily felt slightly more comfortable in the fact that today they all looked as tired as she had the day before. However, the drummer already pounding away in her brain had her afraid of what the rest of the day would bring. Eighteen hour days and three hours of sleep was definitely not what the doctor had ordered in her return to work. Dr. Christiansen had also warned her against beverages containing caffeine. Emily rolled her eyes and took a sip of the steaming coffee in her hand as she stepped off the elevator. They had a killer to catch, and to do so, she needed to be awake. Dr. Christiansen would understand.<p>

Emily dropped her bag on her desk and quickly made her way to the briefing room. The room was already a bustle of activity as she entered and took her seat. JJ tossed a folder down in front of her and gave her tired smile.

"I'm sorry I had to wake you."JJ whispered, "How do you feel?"

"Like I'm gonna need a lot more of these." Emily wagged her coffee cup in the air and smiled. "You're not staying for the briefing?"

JJ shook her head no. "I'm on phone duty. The media is already freaking out."

"Garcia, hit the lights." Hotch ordered as he burst into the room, ending all side conversations.

He quickly took over JJ's normal position at the front of the room, and once the lights dimmed and everyone had settled into their seats, he clicked up at the overhead projector. The crime scene photos flashed up across the screen and all eyes moved from Hotch to the images. The man in the photo slumped awkwardly to the side of a blood stained chair, behind a large wooden desk. The bookshelf behind him appeared to have collapsed, and books scattered the floor around him.

"This is Daniel Larson," Hotch began, "He's a thirty-seven year old attorney, found dead in his office three hours ago from a single gunshot wound to the head."

"Are we sure this is our UnSub?" Morgan asked, "that's one hell of a quick turnaround between kills."

"Garcia has already found a solid connection between Larson and our other two victims, but that not why I called you all in so quickly." Hotch clicked the screen again and a photo of a young boy covered the top of the other photos. "According to witnesses in the building, Larson had his son Randy with him when he entered the building last night. The bodies of both Larson and his personal security guard, Waldo Gutierrez, were discovered in the office building, but there's no sign of Randy."

"Wait, so you're saying the UnSub kidnapped Larson's kid?" Morgan said skeptically.

"That completely changes the profile." Reid added, "this UnSub is quick and incredibly violent. He doesn't show any sense of hesitation or remorse in killing his victims. What would he want with a kid?"

"What if he just heard the noise and ran away?" Prentiss asked, "There's a lot of a places in a building like that for a little boy to hide."

"I don't think so," Reid retrieved the crime scene photo and turned it for the rest of the team to see, "look at the broken bookshelf and upheaval of the desk. All of the other crime scenes have been precise, almost staged, with the victims bound at the wrists and ankles."

"So Larson fought back." Rossi said. "the UnSub didn't have time for the sedatives and ropes."

"He was protecting his son." Reid said sadly.

Suddenly the door to the room flew open and they all spun in their seats to look at JJ.

"Hotch," she said breathlessly, "they found Randy. He's down in the lobby."

"In the Lobby?"

Hotch set down the remote and moved to leave the room. The rest of the team took the action as a sign that the meeting was over and followed him.

"His Aunt brought him in." JJ explained, "Rona Wieland. She said her brother woke her with a text message early this morning, telling her he was going to drop Randy off because he had a work emergency."

"They didn't find a cell phone at the crime scene. Did she see who dropped him off?"

"She said her brother's car pulled in, Randy got out and walked up to meet her on the front porch. She waved and the car left." JJ explained. "He even honked goodbye as he pulled away Hotch. She didn't think anything of it until Randy asked her who had dropped him off."

Hotch frowned and thought to himself for a moment before addressing the rest of the team.

"Morgan, you and Reid go the crime scene and see what else has changed in his MO. JJ, I want you to stay on Sikes. I need that interview with him before we have another body. Garcia, front the media calls to the PR department for a few hours. We need some time to reconstruct the profile."

Once the agents and analyst set off to perform their tasks, Hotch glanced between Rossi and Prentiss, who patiently awaited his orders.

"Prentiss, I want you to talk to Randy. He's probably scared and confused, and a maternal figure might put him a little more at ease. We'll watch from observation."

Emily nodded and removed her gun from her hip and secured it into her desk drawer. The last thing a child who may have witnessed his father being shot would need to see was another gun. The three agents quickly rode the elevator to the lobby where they immediately spotted the little boy sitting next to his Aunt.

"Mrs. Wieland?" Hotch asked.

The woman shot to her feet and Hotch closed the distance between them and shook her hand.

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SSA Rossi and Prentiss." Hotch spoke quietly, "I'm sorry for your loss, and I promise we are doing everything we can to find the person responsible."

The woman nodded and rubbed at the wet streaks on her cheeks. She pulled the little boy at her side close against her and rubbed her hand over his hair.

"Agent Jareau said you'd want to speak with Randy."

"Yes ma'am." Hotch answered, "Anything that Randy may have seen or heard last night could be extremely helpful in finding Daniel's killer"

The woman sniffed and nodded again. Emily took the nod as permission and moved to crouch down in front of the little boy.

"Hi Randy." Emily smiled brightly, "My name is Emily. Do you like Pretzels? Cause I know a guy who keeps a whole lot of 'em in his desk upstairs."

The little boy eyed her curiously for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he should trust this stranger with promise of junk food. He looked up to his aunt, whose tears had made him uncomfortable all morning, and decided the smiling woman crouched in front of him looked less scary. He slowly nodded his head and Emily fought the image of Jack after Hailey's funeral from her mind as he took her hand and led him to the elevator.

"You can't jump in glass elevators."

The little voice next to her was quiet and Emily had to crouch down to hear him as the elevator closed in front of them. "I'm sorry sweetie, what did you say?"

"The elevator at my Dad's office is glass. I like to jump when it stops 'cause it makes you feel heavy. But Daddy says youshouldn't jump on glass, and it's not for playing in." he repeated.

"No, I would imagine its not." she answered, "but who says you can't enjoy them if you have to ride them anyway?"

The boy looked up at her with a confused frown and she smiled at him and winked. A ghost of a smile passed over his face and his hand tightened in hers.

"You gotta wait right til you stop, then jump." He explained. "But you can't kay, cause you're too big. It might make the elevator go all wonky and we could get stuck."

"Oh okay." Emily laughed, "We wouldn't want that."

Randy watched the illuminated numbers above the doors and as they counted up to their floor he crouched down as low as could go. At the arrival of the elevator on their floor, Randy surprised Emily by shooting up from his haunches, and she had to flinch away to avoid taking a tiny fist to the face as his hands shot up over his head. The quiet ding of the opening doors was drown out by the small echoing boom of his feet stomping back down onto the metal floor and Emily stared at the child in disbelieve for a moment. Most children who had just been exposed to a traumatic event were reclusive and quiet, not literally jumping in excitement.

The doors opened and they were met by JJ and Garcia, staring at them from the desks. As they walked closer to the other women, Randy's hand tightened and he scooted in closer to her side.

"What was that?" JJ asked, eyeing the elevator behind them.

"Randy was teaching me how to play the jumping game." Emily smiled down at the boy.

"You jumped in the elevator?" Garcia looked at Emily amused.

"No, I'm too big. I would make the elevator go all wonky" Emily answered and Randy giggled.

"Wonky?" Garcia said, "I like it."

Emily quickly dug into Reid's bottom desk drawer and retrieved a bag of pretzels for the boy, before leading him away from the other women to the interview room. Once there she pulled the chair out for him, and lifted him up into it, again shocked by how much he reminded her of Jack. They sat for a few minutes, talking while he munched on his pretzels and Emily waited for word from Hotch that he and Rossi were ready in observation. While they waited Emily learned that Randy loved a show called Jimmy Neutron, but had never heard of Lassie, which had been her favorite as a child.

Finally her phone buzzed on the table, announcing they were ready for her and she leaned forward on her elbows, pulling his attention away from his pretzels.

"Randy, I need to ask you some questions about last night, okay?" she spoke quietly.

The boy slowly set his snack on the table. " kay."

"Were you at the office with your Dad last night?"

He nodded his head, refusing to look up at her and she noticed his feet change from happily kicking back and forth to dangling above the floor that he was too short to reach.

"Did you see anyone there?"

"Waldo."

Emily's mind flashed back over the names in the file. Waldo Gutierrez, his father's security guard.

"Anyone else?"

The boy took a deep breath and set his chin on top of his hands, pushing the bag away.

_Now this is more like it._ Emily thought to herself as she watched the rambunctious child pull into himself and take on the role she'd expected From a traumatized kid. She gently reached over and ran her hand over his back, pulling his eyes back to her.

"You can tell me Randy. We want to find out who hurt your Dad. Did you see who was in your Dad's office last night?"

Randy nodded and reached forward, fiddling with the pretzel bag.

"Good. Can you tell me what he looked like?" Randy shook his head no and she frowned. "Why not?"

"He was wearin a mask."

"What kind of mask?" Emily carefully slid the empty pretzel bag away from him, silently demanding his attention.

"Like a ninja."

"A ninja huh?" Emily changed tactics, "Like a good ninja, or a bad ninja?"

"I don't know. Just a regular ole ninja." He answered more confidently. "A robot ninja."

Emily's eyebrow arched up to her forehead and she had to take a moment to think about his answer.

"I've never seen a robot ninja. What do they look like?"

"They look like regular ninjas, but has a robot voice."

Emily nodded and glanced at the one way glass where she knew Hotch and Rossi were listening. "What did the ninja say?"

"He told me to close my eyes."

"Where was your Dad when the ninja talked to you?"

Randy shrugged and Emily backtracked.

"Ok, Randy, let's try this," She pulled his chair away from the table and turned it until they were facing each other and he could no longer rely on the table for a distraction. "I want you to close your eyes, and tell me everything that happened from the time you got to your Dad's office, until you got your Aunt's house, ok?"

"I was watching cartoon on my Dad's office TV." He closed his eyes, "but I didn't want to 'cause Dad was yellin on the phone. I couldn't hear it."

"What was he yelling about?" she asked.

"He was talkin ta Rico. Somethin bout Archer. He hit his desk 'cause he was mad."

"What's Archer?"

Randy shrugged and skipped over the question. "Then all the lights went off and it got really dark. Dad picked me up and made me hide in the bathroom cupboard with the towels."

Emily watched the boy intently as he told his story the way his child's mind had understood it. She mentally tried to piece together the gaps with what they had read briefly from the files as he spoke.

"I heard a lot of yelling and a loud bang." Randy clapped his hands together, making Emily jump. "Then I heard the ninja walking, and I was really scared. I tried to be really quiet, but he found me. He had a gun, but he put it away. That's when he told me to close my eyes and gave me a coke."

Emily blinked at the boy for a moment, dumbfounded, as his demeanor relaxed and his feet regained their steady kicking back and forth beneath the chair.

"The ninja gave you a coke?"

"Yeah, from the tiny fridge." He answered, "he gave me the coke, but I didn't want it right now cause I was scared."

"Then what happened Randy?"

"He told me to close my eyes, in his robot voice, and picked me up and covered me up with the towel. But not tight though, just gentle, like a blanket. Then he took me to Aunt Rona's."

"Do you remember anything about the ninja? Was he tall or short?"

"He was too tall for me to see all the way 'cause the cabinet."

"Ok, what happened after he picked you up? Did you see anything?"

Randy shook his head. "No, the towel was over my head so I couldn't see."

"Ok," Emily gave him a smile, "You're doing a great job Randy. Do you remember anything else about him?"

"He felt weird and he smelled like soap."

Emily made a small note in her notepad. "How did he feel weird?"

"His back and chest was all stiff."

"Stiff?" Emily tried to understand the child's choice of words. "Like he had a lot of muscles?"

The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head. "No, just stiff like he had somethin in his jacket."

Emily thought quietly for a few seconds, wracking her brain for what the UnSub may have had under his jacket that the boy had felt. Finding none, she moved on to her next question.

"Ok, what happened after he picked you up?"

"We got in Dad's car and he helped me with my seatbelt. Then we went to Aunt Rona's."

"How did you get down to the car?"

"He carried me."

Emily smirked and mentally kicked herself for not being specific.

"Did he take the elevator?"

The boy shook his head quickly. "No. We took the stairs."

"Did he say anything while you were in the car on the way to Aunt Rona's?"

Randy shook his head and they both turned when Hotch stepped through the door behind Emily. She frowned in confusion at the ballistics vest strapped around Hotch's chest. He ignored her look and crouched down in front of the boy.

"Randy, I'm gonna pick you up, Ok?" Hotch asked.

Randy lifted his arms, granting permission and Hotch easily lifted the boy. Emily watched the boy tap his hand against the back of Hotch's vest and realization hit her.

"Is this what the ninja felt like Randy?" Hotch asked.

Randy surprised them both by leaning forward, wrapping his arms around the back of Hotch's neck and laying his head on his shoulder. He sat that way for a moment, thinking, before sitting up. Suddenly the boy's earlier behavior made sense to her. He hadn't felt so traumatized after all. The UnSub had taken care of him, even covered his face with a towel to prevent him from seeing his dead father. The scared child had even taken comfort of the UnSub, hugging him as he'd carried him away from the carnage.

"Yep." he answered with a nod. "Are you a ninja?"

"No," Hotch smiled, "I'm just a regular old guy."

Hotch and Emily shared a look as Hotch set the boy back down and an uneasiness settled between them as they reached the same conclusion. The UnSub had been wearing body armor.

* * *

><p>Emily and Hotch returned Randy to his Aunt and made their way back to the bullpen to regroup with the rest of the team. Emily broke away from them to retrieve her gun from her desk. She noticed a large yellow envelope with her name written across the front sitting on her desktop and picked it up curiously.<p>

JJ watched Emily from Morgan's desk as she lifted the envelope from her desk and turn it over in her hands.

"Messenger dropped that off for you."

Emily ripped the end of the envelope open and picked up the water bottle from her desk to take a sip as she dumped it's contents onto her desk. JJ's head whipped up from her work at the sound of the water bottle thumping against the floor and shot to her feet at the look on Emily's face. All the color had drained from her cheeks and she looked as if she were about to fall over.

"Emily, whats wrong?"

"How long ago did the messenger drop this off?" Emily's voice was quiet and uneven.

"Why? What is it?" JJ stepped closer.

"JJ How long?"

JJ flinched at the shout that erupted from her friend. "A few minutes ago"

Emily ripped the gun from her desk drawer and took off at a sprint, leaving a very confused JJ behind. JJ took a quick look down at the scattered envelope contents on the top of the desk. Three printer photos of Emily in front of the office building lay in the puddle from the spilled water. Across the front of the top photo, scrawled in black ink was a short message that made JJs blood run cold.

_Hello Emily_

_"_Hotch!" JJ shouted cross the office and Hotch rushed from his office. "Lambert is in the building!"

JJ took off after Emily with Hotch on her heels, yelling for the rest of the team to lockdown the building. As he ran after JJ he said a silent prayer that Emily was not far ahead of them and that Lambert was long gone.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Well, Did you like it? Click that Review button and let me know! I apologize if there are a few odd typos in there. I has to type part of it from my phone and autocorrect and I are not on friendly terms. Review it anyway and let me know if you like it!<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Sorry for the wait guys and gals. I was on such a roll with my daily updates, but got a little caught up with work. As always, Thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts! I have the best readers! Time to start wracking up the action and get this thing moving! I hope you like it! Read on!_

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><p>The sharp pain in her lungs barely registered on Emily's mind as she took the stairs two at a time. She knew she was acting irrationally. If Lambert was still in the building, she could be running straight into a trap. Her instincts told her otherwise, and in her gut, she knew he had a different plan. Risking the trip to Quantico and delivering the photos to her desk was a scare tactic, meant to rattle her. It had worked, she was definitely rattled.<p>

Her boots barely touched down on the landing before she crashed through the stairwell door, into the lobby. A few of the lobby's occupants turned toward the noise, and what little rational thought she had left, reminded her of the holstered Glock she still held in her hand. She quickly clipped it to her hip and expertly scanned the faces around her. She moved around the room quickly, and noticed the security agents at the lobby desk, hanging up phones and moving to initiate the lockdown orders.

A quick movement in the edge of her peripherals caught her attention, and she turned to see a man in a dark suit, moving for the exit. She instantly matched up his height and build from what she could recall of Lambert. He had changed his hair, shaved his beard, and had even lost quite a bit of weight. Just to be sure, she shouted his name across the room. The man turned from the door and the grin on his face turned her stomach. Her vision blurred as the adrenaline flooded her veins at the sight of him. Lambert ducked through the door, into the front courtyard, daring her to follow. She heard the stairwell door slam open behind her, and JJ shouted at her to stop. But her feet were already moving, carrying her toward the lobby doors.

She burst through the double glass doors at a dead run, and was blasted in the face by the cold wet wind. Her eyes narrowed in on the fleeing man's back as he moved toward the west parking garage. If he made it to the garage, she was in trouble. She needed to catch up to him fast. She ignored the protest from her lungs and sprinted forward, uprooting some wilting marigolds as she cut through a flower bed and across the sidewalk. She heard a loud shout behind her and was caught by a sudden impact from her left. She grunted as a sharp pain shot from her elbow, up her arm, and made her hand go completely numb. The weight of her attacker landed hard, forcing the air from her lungs and a blinding white light burst in her eyes as her head connected with the concrete beneath them.

Before she could really register what had happened, her attacker was being ripped up off of her, and through her daze she could hear Hotch yelling. She felt a warm hand on her should, and JJ's voice was close to her. She blinked hard, attempting to clear the fog from her head, and JJ helped her sit up. As realization broke through the daze, she pushed herself up to her feet and searched the courtyard and parking lot with her eyes.

JJ and Hotch had made it through the stairwell door just in time to see Emily take off after a man in black suit. JJ had shouted for her to stop, but Emily was already pushing through the small crowd and toward the doors. Hotch had quickly closed the gap, sprinting ahead of JJ and out into the courtyard. JJ pushed through the glass doors just as the security agent hit the concrete with Emily wrapped in his arms. They were instantly sliding in next to them, and Hotch roughly drug the agent to his feet while JJ helped Emily to her feet.

"Emily, are you alright?" JJ asked.

"Do you see him?" Emily asked "He was right in front of me. I had him."

JJ quickly scanned the area before turning her full attention back to her friend. "I don't see him Em. He's gone."

"He was right here." Emily repeated.

Emily's face was burning despite the cold wind biting her face, and she fought to catch her breath. The exertion of the run down the stairs, and the impact of the two hundred pound security guard was proving too much for her recovering lungs. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, namely Lambert's. She knew he was out there, watching the whole scene play out through his camera lens, and wearing that evil smile. The thought made the hair on her neck stand up, and she felt her chest tighten further.

"Emily, look at me." JJ was speaking to her.

Emily opened her mouth to respond, but her voice caught in her throat and refused to cooperate. Her vision blurred again and she had to close her eyes against the pain in her head. She felt JJ's hands on her elbows, steadying her, and she forced her eyes open. JJ was staring at her with wide eyes, and Emily wanted to ease her concern, but she couldn't seem to catch her breath and her nerves were on fire. JJ's voice sounded muffled, as if she were surrounded by thick glass and suddenly she was hyper-aware to the world around them. She flinched at the unusually loud snap of the flag above their heads as it caught the wind and the starting of a car engine in the parking lot had her spinning to face it. Emily heard her name, as JJ's hold on her arms tightened, but the violent ringing in her ears made it impossible to understand what her friend was saying.

JJ's concern was growing by the second as Emily fought to get control of herself. JJ had initially only expected to help Emily to stand, but when she'd moved to release her arms, Emily staggered and swayed until JJ took hold of her elbows. JJ was only half listening to Hotch speak to the security agent as she watched Emily flinch at something only she seemed to hear. It was then that she noticed Emily's breathing still hadn't evened out and her hands were beginning to shake. Emily quickly spun to face the parking lot, and JJ jumped at the sudden jerky movement.

"Emily, he's gone." JJ pulled on Emily's arm, forcing her to face her.

"JJ," Emily's voice was quiet and forced, "I think I need to go sit down."

The admission caught JJ off guard and it took her a second to act. With a quick nod to Hotch, she gently led Emily back through the lobby and out of the public's watchful eye. Once they were in the elevator, Emily leaned back against the wall and bent over at the waist to catch her breath. When JJ was satisfied that Emily wouldn't fall over, she released her arms and pressed the button for their office floor, and was shocked to find the button stained with red liquid from her hand. JJ's jaw dropped when she turned over her hand, finding it sticky with blood.

"Emily?" JJ crouched down in front of Emily's face. "You're bleeding."

"I am?" Emily slowly straightened up, taking in a shaky breath. She was feeling much better now that she was out of sight of all the people that had been watching her. She had never had a panic attack before, but she was sure that's exactly what she had been hit with out in the courtyard. Her breathing had leveled out even though her lungs still weren't happy with their forced workout, she was more worried about the pain in her head, that still refused to let her eyes focus correctly.

JJ quickly looked over her friend, relieved that she seemed to be coming back from whatever had struck her out in the courtyard. Emily moved to brush her hair out of her face and JJ quickly caught her hand to stop her. Her right sleeve was stained through and blood was dripping off of Emily's fingers onto the elevator floor. JJ swore and Emily rotated her arm to peek around at her elbow.

"Oh," she winced and leaned her head back against the elevator wall. "fantastic."

* * *

><p>The bullpen was chaos when they stepped off the elevator. Rossi was giving orders to various agents, who ran around picking up ringing phones and working to get the entire building shut down as quickly as possible. Morgan saw them the instant they stepped off the elevator and jogged over to them.<p>

"What the hell happened?" he asked, eyes falling to Emily's bloodied arm.

"Overzealous security guard," Emily answered.

JJ helped direct Emily toward the restrooms while she attempted to hold the blood from dripping to the floor with her other hand. Morgan rushed ahead and held the door open for them before retrieving the first aid box from the wall and following them in. He patted the counter top and helped her hop up to sit on it. Emily would have laughed at the action, if the dizziness in her head wasn't threatening to dump her forward onto her face. JJ moved quickly to grab a wad of paper towels and ran them under the sink while Morgan lifted her arm to inspect it. He unbuttoned the cuff at the end of her sleeve and gripped the edges.

"Ruined?" he asked.

It took Emily a second to understand what he was talking about before nodding. Yes, the blood stained shirt was torn at the elbow and most definitely destined for the trash. He pulled on the ends, ripping the material up passed her elbow and grimaced.

"That bad?" she asked, craning her neck to see.

"Can't tell." He answered and reached for the paper towels JJ offered. "What did you do to yourself?"

Emily rolled her eyes and JJ proceeded to tell him about Lambert and the security guard that had tackled her. Morgan's eyebrows went up at the last part as he cleaned the blood from her arm.

"Why the hell did security tackle you?" he asked

"I uh, I missed that part." Emily winced.

"Damn Prentiss, I think you're gonna need stitches." Morgan said.

Emily shook her head no. "Just wrap it up for me. I'll take care of it later."

JJs phone rang, interrupting their conversation and she answered it. Hotch's voice on the other end gave her a quick update on what he had dealt with down in the lobby, before she nodded and hung up.

"Hotch is on his way back up." JJ said, "Garcia already confirmed that Lambert was in the building and caught him on video leaving just before Emily went after him."

Emily released a deep sigh that ended with a wince as Morgan dabbed antiseptic into the gash in her elbow. "At least now I know I'm not crazy."

"Lambert gave the security guard at the desk a copy of the photo just as the lockdown orders came through." JJ continued, "When you took off running passed them, one of the newer guys got a little carried away."

Emily snorted a laugh that made her head swim. "At least we know he takes his job seriously."

JJ continued while Morgan wrapped a roll of gauze around the bandage over her elbow. "They lifted the lockdown, since Lambert is obviously already gone. Hotch wants to see us in his office."

Morgan finished wrapping her arm and helped her down off the counter, immediately noticing the way she swayed on her feet for a moment before regaining proper balance and thanking him.

"Emily?" JJ's voice was soft again, "Did you hit your head?"

Emily reached her uninjured hand up and rubbed the back of her head with a wince. "I think so. That guy must have played football in college."

JJ ignored the joke. "Maybe you should go get checked out."

"I'm fine JJ," Emily lied, "Let's just see what Hotch wants."

JJ watched Emily leave and looked to Morgan for some reassurance. He just shrugged and pulled the door open for her.

"We can't force her," he said as she walked passed him, "we'll just be there when it gets to be too much."

Hotch was waiting for them in the bullpen when they emerged from the restroom, and quickly waved JJ and Emily up to his office. He watched Emily slink slowly passed him and into his office before stopping JJ at the door.

"JJ, get the team and Garcia together in the briefing room," he whispered, "I'll join you in a few minutes. I need to talk to Emily."

JJ nodded and Hotch watched her turn on her heels and leave before turning his attention to the woman standing in his office. He sighed and stepped into the office, closing the door behind him.

"Have a seat Emily," he said, and moved around his desk to sit down.

"Uh oh," Emily groaned, trying to lighten the mood, "you used my name. I must be in trouble."

Hotch raised an eyebrow at her and gave her a small smile. "You aren't in trouble. Sit down."

Emily sighed and sat down with a wince. "Listen, Hotch, I'm sorry I took off like that. It was reckless, I know."

"Yes, it was," Hotch agreed, "but understandable. You've been through a lot in the last few weeks Prentiss, and Benjamin Lambert is responsible for all of it."

Emily squirmed uncomfortably under his serious gaze as he spoke. "I'm really okay Hotch."

"Emily, you just ran out of here after a man that tried to kill us, and almost succeeded I might add, without any backup. That's not something you would normally do."

Emily swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, "You're right. I wasn't thinking clearly."

Hotch sat forward and set his hands on his desk, watching her as she refused to look at him. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked completely exhausted. He wanted to help her, but he wasn't sure how.

"Strauss thinks I should pull you from the case," he said quietly.

Emily's eyes shot up from the floor. "Hotch, I screwed up, I know that, but we have an UnSub out there killing people, and he's escalating. I need to be here, I'll go crazy at home, knowing I can't help you."

"I'm not pulling you Emily. Now, with Lambert, we have two cases, and we need everyone in the field."

"Thank you, Hotch."

"Let me finish," Hotch interrupted, "what happened today can't happen again. You're too emotionally involved with the Lambert case. I want you to focus on our other UnSub. I'm going to assign Rossi and Reid to the Lambert investigation. You need to stay clear of it, understand?"

"Yes sir." Emily took a shaky breath and moved to stand.

"One last thing," Hotch stood from his desk, "you took quite a hit out there Prentiss, are you alright?"

She desperately wanted to lie to him and tell him that she was perfectly alright, and rid him of the worry he held in his eyes. But the spill she'd taken from the security guard left her head pounding, and she still was unable to focus properly. He would know that she was lying the moment she said it, and she had promised him honesty. He trusted her, and she owed him that.

"Actually, I think I need to take a break for a little while," she confessed, "clear my head and get my bearings."

Hotch straightened as if a weight was lifted from his shoulders, and the concentration scowl on his face softened.

"Of course," he said, "I have to regroup with the team and brief them on the latest crime scene. Use my office, and take as much time as you need."

Emily gave him an appreciative smile and he made his way to the door.

"Hotch?" she caught him before he closed the door, "Can you hit the lights? My head."

The two words were all he needed to explain her request. The florescent lights hurt her eyes, and after the knock she'd taken, her head was probably pounding.

"Can I get you anything before I go?"

Emily shook her head no, and gave him a tired smile. He nodded and flipped the light switch before pulling the door closed behind him.

Emily stood in the dark office, letting her eyes adjust before slowly moving to sit on the sofa against the far wall. She felt awkward being left alone in the dark confines of her boss's office. For a moment she thought about changing her mind, and joining the team for their briefing. An image of the relief on Hotch's face when she'd accepted her limits was enough to keep her there, despite the awkwardness. She winced against her sore muscles as she sunk down into the cushions at let her eyes close. She'd allow herself an hour or so of sleep, then she'd join the team.

* * *

><p>Hotch entered the briefing room and pulled the door closed behind him, before taking his seat. All eyes were on him, but no one spoke.<p>

"Lambert was in the building." he announced, "Garcia was able to confirm through video feed that he entered the lobby around ten this morning, where he dropped off an envelope with the mail carrier. The carrier delivered the envelope to Emily's desk without knowing what was inside. Shortly after we sent lockdown orders to the lobby, he gave one of the security guards one of the photos and identified Prentiss as the subject of the lockdown."

"We come through here every single day," Morgan said, "those guards should know her by now."

"Lambert lucked out," Hotch answered, "the guard that tackled her was new. He isn't familiar with the regular personnel yet."

"Remind me to always stop at the desk and say hello to them on my way in from now on," Garcia grumbled.

"Where is Emily?" Reid asked the question they all wanted to know, "Is she okay?"

"Her headache was starting to get to her," he answered, "she's in my office trying to wait it out."

The room was quiet for a moment while they pondered their friend's absence. Hotch quickly broke the silence, refusing to let them dwell.

"We knew Lambert was out there, we just didn't know when or how he would show up."

"He came to our office, Hotch," Morgan said, "We never expected him to be that ballsy. He's taunting us."

Hotch took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face. It was turning into another very long day, and it wasn't even noon yet.

"We have two cases that need our focus now." he spoke, "Chief Strauss has made it clear that the D.C. UnSub is to be our priority, but I'm not willing to hand the Lambert investigation over to another team just yet. If any of you feel otherwise, please let me know."

Hotch sat quietly, tapping his thumbs together, giving them the opportunity to speak and his eyes drifted to each of them as they thought over his words.

"We take care of our own Hotch," Morgan finally spoke for the whole team, "Lambert attacked this entire team. In the end, Emily just took the brunt of it."

The memory of Morgan recovering from his stab wound was not lost on any of them as he spoke. JJ shivered, hit with the chills from the memory of the EMTs performing an intubation on Emily, and the exhausting trek down the mountain. No, none of them would ever be able to step away from this one. Not until Ben Lambert was stopped.

Hotch nodded his understanding and quickly regained his authoritive demeanor.

"Okay, Reid, I want you and JJ working on Lambert. See if you can find out how he got here and where he's been staying. The rest of you, focus on the D.C. Unsub. Six people are dead, and he's showing no signs of slowing down.

Garcia, Reid, and JJ stood to collect their folders and prepared to head off to start gathering their information when Hotch stopped them.

"Garcia?" Garcia spun on her heels to face him, "Get Ms. Maddox in here. We're going to need her help."

Garcia's eyes went wide and she nodded quickly, flashing him a smile. "On it!"

As soon as they had cleared the room and secured the door behind them, Hotch sat back down and turned his attention to the remaining members of his team.

"What did we learn from the boy?" Rossi asked.

Hotch had almost forgotten that they hadn't yet been briefed on Emily's interview with Randy. It seemed like such a long time ago, when it had actually only been an hour since the boy had left the interrogation room. It really should have been Prentiss to fill them in on what she'd learned from the interview, but he wasn't about to call her in just yet. She needed to be rested before returning to the field. Hotch took a few seconds to organize his thoughts before speaking.

"The UnSub entered Daniel Larson's office late last night, after killing his personal bodyguard, and cutting power to the office suit." Hotch began, "Randy told us that his father made him hide in a bathroom towel closet just before the Unsub entered. He said he heard a scuffle and the gunshot, but he didn't see the actual murder."

"So he didn't actual witness his father's death," Morgan said, "thats good."

"Actually, the UnSub went out of his way to make sure that Randy wasn't exposed to any part of his father's death." Hotch said, "Randy told Prentiss that the UnSub, who dressed like a ninja, had told him to close his eyes, before picking him up and laying a towel over his head before leaving the room."

"That throws off the profile, "Rossi replied, "He presented as a textbook sociopath. He shouldn't have cared if the kid saw anything. Actually, he shouldn't have hesitated in just killing Randy. Instead, he knowingly left a witness?"

"Why would he do that?" Morgan asked, "Was it because he was a kid, or simply because he wasn't the target?"

"What do you mean?" Hotch asked.

"Detective Kimble believes the UnSub is a contract killer right," Morgan explained, "If he is, he wouldn't have risked the attention of a dead child if Randy wasn't part of his contract."

"I don't think it's that simple," Hotch said, "If that were the case, why not just leave Randy there? Instead, he protects him from seeing the crime scene, comforts him with a soda, and even takes the time to buckle him into the backseat before driving him to his Aunt's house, and making sure that he is safely in her care before leaving. Why would he risk it?"

"Maybe the UnSub is a parent himself," Morgan said, "We've seen it before; an unstable mind projects an image of a loved one onto someone else, especially in young children."

"It's possible," Rossi agreed, "What's the connection between Larson and the other victims? Maybe the UnSub is someone that Randy knows."

"They all come back to Thomas Sikes," Hotch answered, "Larson was the attorney scheduled to defend Sikes in his hearing next week."

"So we've got Richard O'Brien, who supplied phony documents to Owen Taylor. Taylor then sells illegal guns to Sikes, using an alias created by O'Brien." Rossi counted off his fingers as he spoke, "now Sikes' attorney shows up dead in his office a week before his hearing. It's looking more and more like someone doesn't want Sikes to ever make it out of that cell."

"Not only that," Morgan added, "but he's taking out all of his resources. Without his supplier and documents, he can't run anything from the inside either."

"Sikes has to know who has it in for him enough to kill his people to stop him." Rossi said, "We need that interview."

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><p>Ben Lambert had never felt more alive. His plan to shake things up at Quantico had worked perfectly. Prentiss had surprised him with the speed in which she'd responded to the photos he'd delivered. She was so close to him, that he'd gripped the hunting knife in his coat while he ran toward the garage. The thought of her catching up to him made his heart pound in his chest. He would have surprised her, sinking the blade deep into her soft flesh. He imagined the pained expression that would have masked her face; a mixture of pain and surprise. He'd seen that look once before, up on the mountain in Montana, and he wanted it again. It had only been seconds away from him when the crazy security guard had intervened.<p>

Lambert laughed out loud as he swerved the BMW around a pickup truck and accelerated down the interstate towards the city. His disappointment in the thwarted attack on the Agent was replaced by amusement at the actions of the security guard. Ben hadn't initially planned to take her out just yet anyway, but he wouldn't have hesitated if she'd followed him into the garage, and out of public view. No, that was a moment reserved just for him.

He breathed deep, laughing again, and hit the knob for the radio to catch some of the latest news on the D.C. killer. He had to calm himself down and plan his next move. They had probably already watched all of the security footage, and discovered his new appearance, he would have to change it again. He would need another car as well, and another hotel would be safer. He eyed the printed out photo in the seat next to him, and he felt the adrenaline building again. He needed some sort of release of his energy before it started to affect his mind. If he let it get that far, he wouldn't be able to control it, and he would make a mistake. He was so close, he couldn't afford any mistakes.

He quickly pulled the BMW down the next exit ramp and sped off toward H-street. It was still early, but the nightclub and lounge employees would begin trickling in shortly, to prepare for their evening crowds of partiers. Lambert eyed the photo again, and smiled. He knew that no one would compare to the woman in the photo, but if he could find someone that looked enough like her, he may be able to suppress the buzzing in his nerves a little bit longer. He knew the end game would be well worth the wait, and he would wait for as long as he could for Emily; _his _Emily.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Dun Dun Duuunnnn! Was it worth the wait? Click it and let me know your thoughts!<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Another long wait, I know, I'm Sorry! Crazy real world was not participating with me. Writing this chapter I realized how many names I have floating around, so I'll give you all a quick recap...Owen Taylor=victim #1, was an illegal arms dealer. Richard O'Brien #2, expert forger, Daniel Larson #3, crooked lawyer. Of course, numerous security guards were killed in the making of this story, but their names are not important. Sorry security guards. As always, thanks for all your amazing reviews and numerous story alerts! I have the best readers ever! Read on!_

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><p>"Hotch!" Garcia's shrill voice echoed down the hallway and into the bullpen before she even rounded the corner.<p>

Hotch looked up from his spot at Emily' desk and watched the blonde scurry into the bullpen and come to a stop between Morgan and Reid, in a clatter of heels.

"Hotch, I found something." Garcia tossed a thick folder onto the desk in front of him, sending its contents sliding out across the desk. "Randy Larson mentioned his father was arguing with someone named Rico over the phone just before the power went out. I pulled the phone records and tracked the call back to Elite International's corporate office in Bethesda."

Hotch flipped open the folder and attempted to follow along as she rattled off the new information. He quickly gave up searching through the scattered papers, and turned his full attention to listening.

"I tracked it back to the office of James Donovan. He's the Production Manager for the company's shipping yard in Annapolis. Larson defended him in a wrongful death lawsuit last year after one of his employees was killed in an industrial accident. I dug a little deeper and found one of Donovan's employees that testified in his defense, named Enrico Herrera, friends call him Rico."

"Good work Garcia."

Garcia smiled brightly and watched as Hotch picked up the desk phone and punched in Rossi's extension. He spoke quickly into the receiver, asking Rossi down the bullpen. Once Rossi joined them, Hotch fill him in on what Garcia had found.

"Dave, take Morgan to Bethesda and talk to Herrera." Hotch said, "He may not have anything to do with the gun running operation, but if he does, the Unsub might target him."

"What about Prentiss?" Morgan asked, looking up towards Hotch's office.

"I want to keep her around the office as much as possible for awhile," Hotch answered, "take Reid. Randy mentioned his father was shouting about something called Archer. Find out if Herrera knows who, or what, that is."

Rossi nodded his understanding and the three men grabbed their jackets and set off toward the elevator.

"And Dave," Hotch called across the room. The three men turned to look at him. "Be careful. If he is a part of this, he's not going to want anything to do with us."

Once they disappeared into the elevator, Hotch glanced up at the drawn blinds and closed doors of his office. Emily had been locked away in the dark for just over two hours. He hoped she was actually sleeping and not just humoring him. He sighed and sat back in her chair and attempted to reorganize the file that Garcia had tossed at him.

"Hotch?" Garcia's voice reminded him that she was still standing near Morgan's desk. "Shouldn't we call and warn Herrera that a serial killer might be after him? I mean, this guy is moving really fast, what if the guys don't get there soon enough?"

Hotch thought for a moment and then shook his head no. "These victims are criminals Garcia, possibly terrorists. If we tip him off that we're coming, he'll probably run, and tip off the rest of them. We can't afford to lose our lead. It's all we've got right now."

"This bad guy is only killing really bad guys," Garcia suddenly found the stapler on Morgan's desk very interesting and picked it up, "Does that really make him such a bad guy? He did take care of that little boy."

"Only after killing his father," Hotch added, "Bad men come in all forms Penelope. It's not our job to decide which ones are worse than others."

"I know," she set the stapler back down, bored with the distraction, "I just wish they could all be black and white, good versus evil. I don't like all this gray smudginess."

Hotch offered her a small grin, "We'll do our best to un-smudge it for you. Look at it this way; you've already exposed a possible terrorist group right here in D.C. Now that we're aware of them, we can stop them before they hurt anybody."

"If they live that long," she said quietly.

"We're doing our best to make sure that they do."

Garcia nodded, but Hotch's eyes were drawn over her shoulder. She turned to follow his line of sight, and smiled when Emily pulled the office door closed behind her and quickly closed the distance to join them.

"Sorry, Hotch," she said, looking at her watch, "I didn't mean to sleep that long."

Hotch ignored her unnecessary apology and stood, clearing his things from her desk. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, thanks." She attempted to smooth out the wrinkles in the shirt she must have retrieved from her ready bag, and changed into before her nap. "Where are the guys?"

"They're on their way to Bethesda to check on a lead," Hotch answered.

"Oh?" Emily felt embarrassed that she'd slept through something important.

"Garcia tracked Daniel Larson's phone records and may have found who he was talking to before he was killed." Hotch explained.

"Rico?"

Hotch nodded, "Enrico Herrera. He's an employee of Owen Taylor's security company. He testified in one of Larson's cases last year. It isn't much, but it's all we've got."

"Hotch," JJ's voice interrupted them as she walked briskly from her office. "I just got off the phone with Assistant Director Mueller. He's given us the interview with Thomas Sikes."

"When?"

"They're moving him now." JJ answered quickly, "You get one hour with him Hotch. I tried to get more, but they wouldn't go for it."

"Garcia, I need everything you have on him, now." Hotch ordered

Garcia was halfway out of the room before he even finished his sentence. "I'm on it," she called back to him, and disappeared.

"I reorganized the file for you," JJ said, "thought it'd be quicker than the mess of information in the other one."

Hotch took the folder from her and flipped through it. All of the crime scene photos were present, and all of Garcia's notes had been typed up and the information pertinent to Sikes had been highlighted. He thanked her just as Garcia came scurrying back into the room with another thick folder, and shoved it into his hands.

"That's everything so far," Garcia panted, "sorry it's a mess. We should really upgrade to tablets."

Hotch raised an eyebrow and turned on his heels, ignoring the comment, "Prentiss, you're with me."

Emily quickly grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and jogged after him as he stepped into the elevator. While they rode the elevator to the lobby, Hotch gave her a quick briefing about what she had missed of the team's meeting while she had been sleeping. They quickly made their way through the lobby, deep in conversation, until they were hit with the cold air from the courtyard. A sudden throbbing in her elbow hit Emily, reminding her of the last time she'd been outside, and she couldn't help but to look around them for any hidden camera lenses. Hotch seemed to sense her discomfort and picked up his pace, distracting her with the task of keeping up with him. They finally made it to the parking structure and climbed into the safety of the darkly tinted SUV.

They made the drive in record time with a determined Hotch at the wheel, and quickly checked in through security and were escorted to the holding cell. They took a moment to observe Sikes through the one way glass barrier before entering the room. He still held the same clean cut, authoritive demeanor that he'd had in the black and white photos they'd seen, despite his absent suit and present orange jumpsuit. He sat straight in his chair, with his folded hands secured to the table, staring directly in front of him, as if he could see them through the glass.

"You've got one hour Agents," they were directed to the door by another agent, whose badge identified him as Parks. "Good luck."

Hotch and Emily quietly entered the room, ignoring his dark eyes following them as they took their seats across the table.

"Mr. Sikes, I'm SSA Hotchner, this is SSA Prentiss. We'd like to ask you a few questions," Hotch began, setting his files on the table in front of him. When the man said nothing, he pulled the photos of Owen Taylor and Richard O'Brien from the folder, and set them on the table in front of him. "Do you know these men?"

Sikes glared at them for a few seconds before dropping his eyes down to the photos. "No."

"What about Philip Gilchrest, do you know him?"

"Never heard of him."

"I find that hard to believe," Hotch pulled the bank records from the folder and spun it on the table to face Sikes, "since you paid him close to seventeen million dollars over the last two years."

Sikes didn't blink at the accusation and continued to glare at the two agents. Hotch glared right back at him for a few seconds before pointing down at the photo of Owen Taylor's body.

"Someone broke into a warehouse full of illegal guns, and cut Owen's throat, Mr. Sikes. Do you have any idea who would have done that?" Hotch asked.

"How would I know?" Sikes growled.

"We believe both of these men were killed by someone who really wants to shut down your operation Thomas." Hotch chose his words carefully, "We already have all the proof we need to keep you here for the rest of your life. We aren't looking for you to incriminate yourself. We're here to catch a killer."

Sikes let out a raspy laugh and leaned forward in his chair, setting his elbows on the table. "Prove it."

Hotch accepted the challenge and pulled various highlighted papers from his file. "You paid seventeen million dollars to Philip Gilchrest, an alias of Owen Taylor. Owen's body was found in a warehouse surrounded by illegal firearms. He didn't have time to properly dispose of anything before he was killed. We found his shipping manifest, for the guns in the warehouse Thomas. Your name was on it."

Sikes clenched his jaw and sat straighter in his chair, signaling to Hotch that he had him.

"I'm not talking to you without my lawyer." Sikes rasped.

"Just one little problem with that," Emily spoke up, pulling Larson's photo from her file and sliding it across the table to him, "your lawyer is dead."

The man scowled at the photo, clenching his jaw over and over as his face slowly reddened. They remained silent for a few seconds, letting his anger sink in.

"Who's killing your men Thomas?" Emily asked.

"I want a phone call," he said quietly.

"Not gonna happen," Emily shook her head.

"I want to warn my family," Sikes spoke gruffly, "you give me a phone call, and I'll tell you everything. That's the deal."

Sikes sat back in his chair and resumed his glare, signaling that he was done talking. Emily looked to Hotch, who appeared to be thinking through his request. He collected his file, leaving the photos for Sikes to see and stood, motioning Emily to follow him out. Agent Parks met them on the other side of the door.

"Absolutely not," Parks barked the moment the door was closed.

"Agent Parks, I understand that giving him a call is a big risk," Hotch argued, "but lives are at stake. Someone has it in for this guy, and he's killing everyone in his path."

"I understand where you're coming from Agent Hotchner, I really do, but we've used too many resources and too much man power building this case, to have it blown with a phone call." Parks replied.

"I realize that, but your case is already made Agent Parks. Sikes is going away for the rest of his life, whether he tips the rest of them off or not. I guarantee, any further information we discover during our investigation, pertaining to your case, will be forwarded directly to you." Hotch reasoned.

Parks shifted on his feet, eyeing the man in question through the small window on the steel door. Hotch could see the wheels in his head turning and his walls start to fall, as the agent though over his argument.

"Seven people are dead, Agent Parks," Hotch continued, "In less than seventy-two hours, this Unsub has shot, stabbed, and strangled seven people. Sikes might have the only information we need to stop him before he kills another one."

Parks thought for a few more seconds before finally speaking, "Alright Hotchner. One phone call, and make it a quick one. If he throws this case, it's your ass."

"Understood." Hotch nodded and Emily followed him back into the interrogation room.

Sikes watched them smugly as they took their seats. Hotch carefully pulled his cell phone from his pocket, and set it on the table. He eyed Sikes as he turned on the speakerphone feature, and slid the phone across the table until he could reach it with his secured hands.

"You have five minutes," Hotch spoke in a low tone.

Sikes gave him a smirk and pulled against his restraints, to type the numbers on the device. The muffled ringing echoed throughout the small room, before a man's voice answered.

"It's Tom." Sikes leaned in close to the phone as he picked it up in his hands.

"Jesus Sikes," the voice barked, "What the hell is going on in there?"

Hotch and Emily's ears perked at the excited tone in the man's voice, but Sikes appeared unaffected.

"Larson is dead Jim," Sikes said, "I need a new lawyer before my hearing next week."

"I'll have one there first thing tomorrow."

Hotch glanced at Emily, whose eyes told him that the direction of the call was making her just as uneasy as he felt. Hotch quickly turned his eyes back to Sikes, and waved his finger in the air, signaling him to finish his call.

"Jim, how's Kelly holdin up?" Sikes asked, glaring at Hotch.

Hotch quickly connected the name of the man's wife that they had learned from Garcia's file, during the ride from Quantico.

"She's doin alright," the voice answered, "we're takin good care of her Tommy, don't worry."

"Alright, that'sgood. They're tellin me my times up. I've got just one more favor to ask."

"Name it buddy, I'll take care of it."

Sikes sat forward onto his elbows and spoke directly into the phone clasped tightly in his hands. "Find Foster, and kill that son of a bitch."

Both Agents shot up from their seats, before he had even finished the sentence. Hotch grabbed him around his shoulders, pulling him up away from the table, as Emily attempted to dislodge the phone from his hands. Sikes hunched in tight over his hands, fighting to hold them off as he continued to yell.

"…and then, I want you to cut Archer's heart out!"

Emily finally managed to rip the phone from his hands, feeling one of his fingers pop under her grip. By the time Agent Parks burst through the door, Hotch had Sikes pinned, face down, against the table. Sikes laughed manically as Parks and another Agent swept into the room, moving Hotch and Emily out of the way, and pulling Sikes up from the table.

"We're done here," Parks barked, "I hope you got what you needed."

They watched as Parks escorted the smiling man out of the room, leaving the door hanging wide. Hotch stared after them, mentally kicking himself. Sikes hadn't blown Parks' investigation at least, but he'd managed to order the deaths of two people in a matter of seconds. Hotch only hoped the names of the unfortunate targets would give them a solid lead. Emily pulled him from his thoughts when she tapped against his arm, and handed him back his phone.

"We need to go Hotch," Emily spoke softly, "Maybe we can stop him before he makes his move."

Hotch quickly punched in his speed dial and lifted the phone to his ear as he led them from the room, and through the bustling facility.

"House of Insanity, how may I direct your call," Garcia chirped.

"Garcia, I need you to run the last number dialed from my phone, and tell me where it came from. I need an address, ASAP."

As they hurried from the building to the SUV, he could hear Garcia's fingernails clicking frantically against the plastic keys of her keyboard.

"Bethesda," she read from her screen, "searching for an address… oh look at that, James Donovan's office."

Hotch hung up the phone without another word to Garcia, as he climbed into the driver's seat of the SUV. Emily followed, watching him with wide eyes, awaiting direction.

"Call Morgan," he ordered as he pulled the SUV from the parking structure and hit the sirens, "tell him to forget about Herrera. The call was to Donovan, they could be right there."

Emily quickly retrieved her phone, wincing when her injured elbow connected with the armrest as Hotch turned sharply into traffic. He ignored the indignant wailing of horns, vocalizing their disapproval at his lack of consideration for traffic laws, and sped off down the interstate.

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><p>Morgan pulled his buzzing phone from his pocket as he, Rossi, and Reid followed a secretary down the hall of the Elite International's corporate center. He eyed Emily's familiar number on the display readout and caught Rossi's attention.<p>

"I'll catch up to you," he advised, and fell back to answer the phone, "hey Princess, how was your nap?"

Emily ignored his teasing, "Morgan, forget about Rico, find Donovan."

"Donovan? Why?"

"He's the link. Sikes just called him and ordered a hit on two people," Emily explained quickly, "We're about fifteen minutes out, but you need to stop him before he passes on the order."

"Rossi!" Morgan shouted down the hall. Rossi and Reid spun to face him. "It's Donovan."

Morgan turned on his heels, sticking his phone back into his pocket, and took off back down the hallway, in the direction they had come. Rossi and Reid jogged after him, ignoring the protests of the secretary. Morgan avoided the elevator they had taken down, and moved straight for the stairs. Once they emerged, two floors higher, he pulled his gun from his hip and posted himself against the doorframe of the office they had just been in, a mere twenty minutes earlier.

Rossi followed suit, pulling his gun and took up position against the opposite doorframe. With a quick nod, Morgan pushed the door in, yelling out to identify themselves. Their guns led their way into the room, Morgan moved right, while Rossi went left, and Reid straight down the middle. They immediately realized the room was empty.

"Damn it," Morgan swore, "he probably took off the second we stepped out of the room."

"Call Hotch," Rossi instructed, and tucked his gun back into its holster, "tell him Donovan is in the wind."

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><p>James Donovan had nearly choked on his coffee when the FBI knocked on his door. He'd been dealing with irate customers, and disrupted shipments for the entire morning. Someone was killing off their top production resources, and, with Sikes in lockup, damage control had become his responsibility. Just when he thought he'd smoothed things over enough, the FBI was asking questions.<p>

He'd surprised himself with presented calm demeanor, despite the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He quickly calmed, when he'd realized they weren't looking for him. Though he had been confused to how they'd come by Rico's name, he had no doubt that the man could handle the three agents. He had, no doubt, had his share of run ins with the feds. Rico was unshakeable, and from the sound of it, the feds were fishing. So Donovan had given them Rico's location. Of course, the moment they had left his office, he'd called Rico to let him know they were coming.

Shortly after, Sikes had called. His tone had the adrenaline in his blood pumping again. The feds were closer than they'd realized. The moment Sikes had barked the order, Donovan could hear the scuffling and yelling of multiple people, and knew his boss had just thrown himself to the wolves. There would be no turning back now.

Donovan shot to his feet, grabbed his briefcase and made a beeline for the lobby. He had to get out before whoever had been in with Sikes tipped off the Agents that were somewhere in the building. He hurried through the lobby, avoiding the curious look from the security desk and once he stepped outside, he broke into a fast jog to the parking structure.

A sudden screech of tires against the smooth concrete pulled his attention, and he was blinded by the harshness of the setting sun. He lifted his hand against the light, and heard the revving engine of the truck before he actually saw it. He barely registered the screeching of the brakes locking up, seconds before the impact set rattling pain from his toes and up his spine. He hit the ground hard, lying dazed on the concrete. He groaned and blinked up at the ceiling of the parking structure before a dark silhouette of someone intruded his sight.

"Oops."

The simple word and mechanical laugh made Donovan's skin crawl. He attempted to roll onto his hands and knees to right himself, but pain shot through his arm and shoulder. He slumped, realizing the small puddle of blood forming under his hand.

"The feds will be here soon," the voice spoke close, "let's go."

A strong hand clasped around his shoulder, making him wince, but pulling him up to stand. Donovan wobbled on shaky legs as the figure spun him quickly toward the open door of the truck that had hit him. Now that he was on his feet, he wanted to run. His car was close, but his broken body refused. He simply held himself stiff, refusing to get into the truck. His assailant pushed harder, and he cried out as he pushed back. A sudden strike landed against his jaw and he saw stars, losing his balance. He felt his feet being lifted as he was folded into the backseat of the truck. He fought the pain in his head, but the fog was closing in. His body was giving up on him. As the felt the truck move forward, and heard the squeal of the tires underneath him, he knew his time was up.

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><p>JJ glanced at the clock on the wall on the bullpen, reading shortly after 1am when the rest of the team came shuffling out of the elevator. Their slumped shoulders and lazy steps let off an aura of pure exhaustion. As they slumped into their desks, she couldn't help but think they looked defeated. She gave them all a sympathetic smile as she passed them and headed to Hotch's office. Hotch was just sitting down when she entered.<p>

"Garcia is still running everything she can on the victims," JJ said quietly, "so far, she hasn't found anything on anyone named Foster, or Archer."

Hotch's scowl deepened, and he rubbed his hands over his face. "What about Lambert?"

"Garcia was able to find the car he used from one of the parking garage cameras," she said, "she traced it back to a rental agency in D.C. It was rented to a Keith Frasier, but they gave us a positive ID on Lambert's photo. The car had already been returned. He must have taken it back right after leaving here."

"That's a good start. How's Garcia holding up? We've been running her ragged today?" he asked.

"She's tired," JJ confessed, "but we're all tired. I've set up the agents you asked for. They've been watching her place since about four."

"Good," Hotch risked a glance through his window at his team. Morgan was walking away in the direction of Garcia's office; Reid had his head resting in his hand as he scribbled into a file on his desk, while Emily had let her head rest on her arm, folded onto her desk. He was glad she'd conceded to taking a nap during the day. She was exhausted and he didn't want to think about how awful she'd be feeling now if she hadn't. She wasn't going to like that he'd assigned two agents to watch her home, to make sure she was safe from Lambert. He just hoped she'd be too tired to make a fuss about it.

"Get Garcia," he spoke to JJ, "It's time to call it a night."

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><p>Donovan was ripped back to consciousness by the blast of frigid water, that stung his face, making his eyes burn. He gasped and sputtered, crying out at the pain it caused in his chest. It took him a moment to focus on the black clad figure sitting on the table a few feet in front of him. The dim light glinted off the pistol in hand, as the figure rotated it slowly between his gloves.<p>

"Who are you?" Donovan groaned, "What do you want?"

"You know exactly who I am James," the robotic voice sounded loud in the silent room. "How did you find him?"

"Find who?"

In an instant, Donovan's head was spinning from the solid hit to the face. His nose popped, and blood gushed down into his mouth.

"We can keep playing this game," even through the voice distorter, his attacker's voice sounded stressed, "or you can tell me. How did you find Foster?"

Understanding hit him and his eyes shot up to the masked figure in front of him. "Archer?"

The end of the gun made another solid hit to opposite side of his face sent him sprawling from his chair and he heard his already broken wrist pop. His cry echoed through the room, and he prayed that someone had heard him.

"So, we've established who I am," Archer crouched in front of him, "what do you want with Foster?"

Donovan groaned, his broken body protesting the abuse. He attempted to roll over onto his back to face his interrogator, but Archer's foot came down on his hand, holding him in place.

"You," he cried out, "Sikes was gonna use Foster to get to you!"

Archer stood slowly, allowing Donovan to pull his hand to his chest and roll over onto his back.

"I was gonna kill you Donovan," Archer spoke, tucking the gun into his waistband. "but I have a job for you. You tell Sikes, if he wants me, I'm coming for him."

Donovan watched from the floor as Archer pulled a cell phone and set of keys from a cargo pocket and set them on the table. Without another word, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Donovan wet, freezing, and in pain on the floor.

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><p>The shrill ring of the phone on his nightstand ripped Hotch from the deepest sleep he'd experienced in weeks. He sat straight up, grabbing the device and rubbed his hand over his face.<p>

"Hotchner," he croaked.

"Agent Hotchner," the phone squawked, "Detective Kimble. We've got another one. You're gonna want get out of bed for this one."

"What's different?" Hotch was already kicking off his blankets and moving to retrieve his clothes from his closet.

"He survived."

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><p><em>Author's Note: Our other baddie has a name now, yay! Hope it was worth the wait. Click it and let me know what you think!<em>


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: Anybody else really annoyed by the site always screwing up lately? I posted my last chapter, and for the whole day it read zero hits, alerts, reviews, nothing, even though I did have a review or two come in. It was like that for two days, then when it finally came back up, I ended up with four alerts that I had updated my story. So I apologize if you all got numerous alerts as well! Having said that...where, oh where have all my reviewers gone? Thank you SO much to the ones that are reviewing, and sticking with me! Read On, and Enjoy!_

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><p>Hotch met Rossi in the parking lot of the Bethesda Medical Center, shortly after 6am. He had decided not to call the rest of the team, opting to let them rest for what was already looking to become another long day. Rossi strolled from his car, carrying two cups of steaming coffee over to him. Hotch felt a pang of jealously that Rossi appeared much more rested than he felt.<p>

"Nights seem to be getting shorter and shorter, Aaron," Rossi smirked and handed Hotch one of the cups.

"I know Dave, I'm sorry," Hotch spoke quietly, "but I need another set of ears on this. I didn't want to wake everyone. Some of us have to be clear headed and alert today."

"Lucky me," Dave teased.

Together they walked into the medical center, where they met Detective Kimble, who escorted them to the small hospital room. Rossi nodded to the two police officers posted outside of the room, before turning to listen to Kimble speak.

"We're still waiting on the FBI to send their guys down here," Kimble motioned to the standing officers, "until then, local PD offered to hang around for awhile."

"That's good," Hotch said appreciatively, "did he say what happened?"

Kimble shook his head no, "haven't spoken to him. Was leaving that conversation to you guys. All I knows that an ambulance was called to some vacant strip mall, where they found him unconscious. Your guy beat the hell out of him, but somehow, he got away."

With that little bit of information, Hotch and Rossi stepped into the room, and Kimble pulled the door closed behind them. Donovan's face was a canvass of cuts and bruises, and his top lip looked as if it was being held on by the stitches that snaked up toward his cheekbone. Hard plaster covered his right arm, and Hotch could clearly see the deep bruising of his hand and fingers peeking out from its edges. Rossi picked up the medical chart from the end of the bed, and quickly skimmed through it. The man was a wreck, yet somehow had survived the attack.

"Mr. Donovan?" Rossi spoke loudly, in attempt to rouse the man.

Donovan's eyes opened slowly, and he blinked a few times, before focusing his sight on Rossi. He took a deep shaky breath, and Rossi tried not to grimace at the wheeze that filtered from his chest.

"Mr. Donovan, I'm Special Agent Rossi. We spoke yesterday, do you remember?"

Donovan slowly nodded his head, "I remember."

"Can you tell me what happened yesterday?" Rossi asked, "After we spoke?"

The man deflated with a deep sigh, and his eyes closed. For a moment the Agents thought he had fallen asleep, until he spoke again, with a quiet even tone.

"He hit me with a truck."

"Who hit you?"

"I don't know his name," Donovan sighed, "I should be dead."

"Was it the same man that killed Daniel Larson?" Hotch asked, from the opposite side of the bed.

Donovan's eyes opened and he turned his head, as if just noticing that Hotch was in the room. He blinked at the Agent a few times, before taking another deep breath and pushing himself into a more upright position, signaling them that he was ready to talk.

"He killed all of them," Donovan finally spoke, "he'll come back for me."

"Why do you think that?" Rossi asked.

"Archer doesn't leave survivors. It's not the way he operates." Donovan let his shoulders sink back into the pillow, unaware that his comment had both agents on high alert.

"Mr. Donovan, you said you didn't know your attacker's name," Rossi asked, "So who is Archer?"

"It's just some stupid name we gave him," Donovan grumbled, "I don't know what his real name is. I don't even know if he has one."

Hotch was tired and irritated by the man in the bed in front of him. It had been like pulling teeth to get information from him. He was speaking cryptically, trying not to really divulge anything. He was wasting their time. Finally, having enough, Hotch stepped up close to the bed, shushing Rossi's attempt to fish for answers, and glared at the man's battered face.

"You're wasting our time Mr. Donovan," Hotch growled, "We aren't going to stand here digging for jumbled information all morning. We're trying to stop this killer, before he kills any more of your friends. Either help us, and tell us everything you know; or we're done here, and we remove the police from your door."

"You can't do that," Donovan said, sitting up straighter, "he'll kill me."

"We can't help you, if you don't help us, James," Rossi took over the role of _good cop_, hoping the age old technique still worked.

Donovan looked suspiciously between the two Agents before letting his head fall back against the pillow and turning to face Hotch in defeat. He would tell them everything.

"What do you want to know?" Donovan sighed.

"Tell us everything you know about Archer," Hotch answered.

"Better grab a chair."

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><p>It was after 10:00 when Rossi and Hotch emerged from the elevator and strolled into the bullpen. Reid, whose desk faced the elevator, noticed them first and kicked Morgan's desk next to him. Morgan looked up at him, and then followed his attention to the approaching men, then kicked Emily's desk. She mirrored his reaction, until all three of them studying the senior agents.<p>

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," Morgan joked, "sleep well?"

Even as he said it, Morgan knew they both looked haggard and tired. They hadn't been at home sleeping in. They had been working. And by the lighter way in which they carried themselves, Morgan suspected they had found something good.

"Round table room in ten minutes," Hotch said with a small nod, and walked passed them.

The three Agents watched him leave and turned their attention to Rossi, while slowly standing and collecting their things for the briefing.

"What was that about?" Emily asked.

"A tired Hotch, is a cranky Hotch," Rossi shrugged, "we found Donovan."

"What? Really?" Reid stammered, "I thought we were all supposed to be at home sleeping. How did you find him?"

"Detective Kimble called us last night after an ambulance picked him up outside of a strip mall in DC. The Unsub worked him over pretty good."

"The Unsub? And he survived? That doesn't make any sense," Reid frowned, "It doesn't fit. All the other victim attacks were extremely efficient, without giving them any possibility of surviving. Why would Donovan be any different?"

"Relax kid," Rossi chuckled, "Give Hotch his ten minutes to make a phone call, and we'll catch everyone up at the same time. Better call JJ and Garcia, they're gonna need to be there too."

Five minutes later, the whole team was gathered around the Round Table, waiting for their boss. They didn't even attempt making small talk, all of them buzzing from the strong morning coffee, and anticipation of a solid lead. Hotch entered a few minutes later, carrying a laptop case, and greeting them with a simple head nod.

"Hotch, do you really believe it was our Unsub that attacked Donovan?" Reid blurted out the moment Hotch had stepped into the room, "because if it was, he's drastically changed his MO."

Hotch took a second to make sure everyone was present, and all eyes were on him, before he relayed the information that he and Rossi had learned at the hospital.

"Donovan believes he was attacked by someone he calls Archer," Hotch began.

"Archer?" Emily blurted, "Same Archer that Sikes ordered Donovan to have killed?"

Hotch nodded and took a deep breath, trying to decide the best way to deliver the information that Donovan had given them. The case had taken a drastic jump into the world of a collapsing terrorist organization, and until now, they had been following it blindly. He stood at the front of the room, and by the intense eyes around the table, focused solely on him, he knew they would listen. No matter how crazy it sounded.

"In 1977, Thomas Sikes and his long time friend, Gary Forester, founded a small, unnamed, anti-government militia group in northern Delaware," Hotch slid two photos into the center of the table. The team glanced momentarily at the familiar image of Sikes, and turned their attention to the mug shot of the middle aged blonde man. "In 1980, they gained the attention of the ATF for the first time, after they were found responsible for a railroad bombing that killed thirty-six people."

"That's a pretty big first strike," Emily said, "but what does this have to do with our Unsub?"

Hotch leaned over, bracing his hands on the table and looked around at his team. Sighing, he pointed to the mug shot in the center of the table.

"Donovan says that Sikes and Forester had a falling out a few years later, after Forester became obsessed with the idea of a program to train hitmen to carry out kill orders of the group."

"How did that cause a falling out?" Morgan asked, "Sikes doesn't seem like the type of guy that is against having people kill for him. He's already proven that he uses a hit man when he called Donovan yesterday."

"It was the process of obtaining and training the candidates that caused the rift," Hotch continued, "Forester wanted to use children."

"Children?" Garcia blurted out from the far end of the room, pulling the teams attention to her, "Please tell me there aren't any kids mixed up in all this."

"Donovan said that Forester's plan was to take very young children, and basically raise them like soldiers. The goal was mold them into, and I quote, _perfect assassins_." Rossi answered for him.

"Children assassins?" Morgan didn't look convinced, "that's crazy. It couldn't work."

"I don't think he meant they would be assassins as children," Reid corrected, "by now, they would be adults, probably in their mid to late twenties or early thirties."

"Wait," Morgan shook his head, "you're seriously telling me that he may have taken a couple kids, and turned them into cold blooded killers?"

"A child's brain is at its most developmental stages when they're very young," Reid spoke quickly, "they're like little sponges that absorb information. Did you know that the majority of your personality and moral understanding of right and wrong is completely developed by age eight?"

"Hotch," Emily turned away from Reid, "you said this caused a falling out between Sikes and Forester though, right? They never actually tried it?"

Emily stared at the Unit Chief, mentally pleading with him to tell her no. She could handle killers. She could even handle a contract killer. But when children became involved; it always spun the case on its axis, and they all had struggled to keep things impersonal. She hoped this was not one of those cases.

"I can't say much for the moral standards of Thomas Sikes," Hotch answered, "but to his credit, he refused to use children. Forester became so obsessed with the idea, that Sikes eventually had him disbanded from the organization. They hadn't heard anything from him in years."

"So what does any of this have to do with our Unsub?" Morgan asked, "You guys think Forester's behind these attacks?"

"That's where things get a little more complicated," Rossi answered, "Sikes' organization suffered a major hit last year, when someone planted a bomb on a freight ship carrying millions of dollars worth of illegal merchandise. Sikes blamed the attack on Forester, and ordered Donovan to have him taken out. We have a written confession that James Donovan killed Gary Forester."

The team was silent for a few moments, letting the information sink in.

"If Forester is dead, then who is killing these men?" JJ asked.

Hotch reached into the computer bag he'd carried in, dug out the device, and set it on the table. Garcia perked up in her chair at the sight of the laptop.

"Forester attempted his experiment without the group," Hotch said flatly, "He called it Project Archer. He recorded it all into this computer, but its password protected. I was able to see only a couple pages of text."

"I can help you with that," Garcia was already standing from her chair, leaning over Reid and Morgan to retrieve the laptop, grinning.

"Where did you find the laptop?" Emily watched Garcia return to her seat, powering on the laptop.

"Donovan said he found it in Forester's belongings after carrying out the hit."

"So Forester somehow gets his hands on a kid, and conducts this experiment in secret," Morgan thought aloud, "And twenty something years later, he strikes back at the organization that kicked him out by taking out their shipment. They respond by having him killed, but the kid is an adult now, and carrying out Forester's hit orders."

"Guys, I think we've been looking at this wrong," Reid said suddenly, "I think we were wrong about this being a contract killer. If Forester conducted the entire project by himself, then the child would have grown up only knowing him. That's obviously going to create some sort of paternal connection for them. What if Archer is killing these men out of vengeance?"

"Then why would he leave Donovan alive?" Emily asked, "If this is an act of vengeance, wouldn't he have taken most pride in killing the man that pulled the trigger on Forester?"

"He needed Donovan to deliver a message," Hotch answered, "Donovan was supposed to tell Sikes that Archer is coming for him."

The room quieted, each of them letting the new information to sink in. They had been struggling to find just one solid lead that would break the case. Not that they had, they needed time to process it. Hotch had immediately called Agent Parks, after leaving the hospital, warning him that Archer might make an attempt on Sikes. They would be ready if he did.

They spent a few more minutes snowballing theories and coming up with an action plan before Hotch dismissed them to their work. They moved as a group to the small section of desks, feeling a new sense of purpose, with a straight direction to work in. The phone in Hotch's pocket rang, and he answered it on the first ring. They watched him as he listened for a moment, and then thanked the person on the other end before hanging up. He turned to Garcia.

"That was the reception desk," he said, "Cassi's here."

Garcia raised her hands and sprung up from Morgan's desk that she'd been leaning on, letting out a quiet "whoohoo" and hurried to the elevator. Once the elevator deposited her into the lobby, Garcia wandered the room for a few minutes before locating her. The small brunette was standing with her back to her, reading the directory on the wall. Garcia walked up behind her, and she turned to face her before she could tap her shoulder.

"Penelope Garcia, nice to finally meet you for real," Cassi smiled and shook her hand, "you're just as…colorful, in the real world."

Garcia smiled brightly and eyed the woman's tan cargo pants and loose, wrinkled sweatshirt. "Don't worry cupcake, we'll get you some pastels, trade the boots for heels, and maybe put a bow in your hair. You'll be alright."

Cassi arched an eyebrow in amusement and looked down at her disheveled appearance and smiled. "In my defense, wardrobe was not my first concern when I got your message. It's a seven hour drive from Keokee, I dressed for comfort."

"You're the one that wanted to drive," Garcia frowned, "I told you we could send a jet."

Cassi laughed, "I don't like flying. I avoid it at all costs in fact. Besides, I'm sort of a heavy packer."

Garcia looked amused, "You're a heavy packer? You don't strike me as the high maintenance type."

"Look at me Penelope," Cassi lifted her arms, emphasizing the oversized hoodie, "Do I look high maintenance?"

They shared a laugh and Garcia led her over to the reception desk.

"This is Cassidy Maddox, she needs a visitor badge," Garcia addressed the security guards at the desk and pointed to Cassi, "She will be consulting with the BAU team under the supervision of SSA Aaron Hotchner until further notice. She's allowed to be here, so don't go all ninja on her."

Cassi's eyebrows furrowed and she canted her head at the comment. She opened her mouth to ask, but the blushing of the security guard made her close her mouth and decide to have Garcia explain later. The guards took a quick photo of her, and printed out a visitor's badge that she quickly clipped to her sweatshirt. Garcia smiled her approval and led them to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors had closed, Cassi took the opportunity to ask, "Go ninja on me?"

"Long story," Garcia answered, "one of them tackled Emily yesterday. He's probably the only reason that Lambert is still out there now."

Cassi frowned, "Is she alright?"

"It's Emily, she's always alright," Garcia smiled, forgetting that Cassi really didn't know Emily that well. "Little cut on her elbow, and a bonk on the head, but she says its nothing."

Cassi's frown held, "Does that sort of thing happen a lot?"

"What, our security tackling one of our Agents in the courtyard?" Garcia said, "All the time."

Garcia laughed at the way Cassi's face scrunched up at the comment, and grabbed her arm as the elevator opened up to the BAU office. Garcia led her from the elevator to the small group of desks, drawing everyone's eyes to their guest.

"Team, meet Cassi. Cassi this is the team." Garcia smiled, pointing around the group, "You've met the lovely Emily Prentiss, in the flesh. That is the boy wonder and super genius Dr. Spencer Reid. Over there is the also lovely, Jennifer Jareau, or JJ if you want."

Garcia moved around the group, grabbing each one of her friends to emphasize who she was referring to as she spoke. They laughed at the quirky introductions, as each of them shook Cassi's hand, and she awkwardly tried to follow along.

"Renowned author, and Italian Bistro Extraordinaire, David Rossi; the chiseled pillar of sexiness, Derek Morgan; look, but don't touch. And that is Mr. Grumpy-pants himself, Agent Hotchner, or Hotch to us worker bees." Garcia leaned in close to Cassi, purposely failing to whisper, "Don't worry, he's not as mean as he looks."

Cassi leaned over to shake Hotch's hand, smiling nervously at him.

"Don't you have work to do Garcia?" Hotch spoke over Cassi's shoulder, causing Cassi's smile to fall.

"Yes sir, yes we do," Garcia grabbed Cassi's arm again, spinning her away from Hotch and dragging her away from the desks. She grabbed Reid's arm with her other hand on her way by, and he stumbled from his chair to follow, "To the Hack Cave!"

"And Garcia," Hotch called. Garcia stopped and spun around to face him, "My pants are not grumpy."

Garcia smiled brightly. She'd pried a rare joke out of the Unit Chief. Mission accomplished. With one last smile to the laughing team, she turned on her heels and set off to her office, with an amused genius, and the confused survivalist in tow."

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><p>Ben Lambert paced the short distance of his newly acquired hotel room. The room was nowhere near as luxurious as his former domain, but the Agents had most likely discovered his alias. There was no way he could risk using any of the credit cards to check into another hotel, and the high end places would notice if him if he paid with cash. So he chose the simple Motel. It was near downtown and no one would think twice about the dented Mazda he'd driven up in. Of course, the car was gone now, just like its owner, replaced by a cash rented Toyota, parked in the back lot.<p>

The Mazda belonged to Melinda Reese, who he'd met at a bar on H street, shortly after making his run from the FBI's office. She had been wearing a red dress that contrasted her nearly black hair perfectly. She'd attracted his attention the moment she walked into the room, and when she'd smiled at him while taking his drink order, he knew that she was the one. He'd watched her for hours, talking to the bartender, delivering drinks, and making idle chit chat with a few patrons. He had been charming, making her laugh, and smile in a way he could only image Emily Prentiss would smile. By the end of the night, she had agreed to let him walk her to her car. That had been her first and fatal mistake. He still shuddered in excitement at the memory of the look on her face when he'd pressed her back against the side of the beat up Mazda. She had smiled at first, letting her eyes close and parting her lips, willing him to kiss her. He'd obliged, covering her mouth with his own, distracting her as he reached to his belt for the hunting knife. He kept his mouth in place, trapping any sound from escaping as he thrust the knife between her ribs, before pulling away and replacing his face with his large hand.

It had only taken a few deep thrusts of his knife before she had stilled beneath his weight against the cool metal of the car. He'd kept his eyes on her face with each forward motion of the knife. The combination of fear, anger, and pain conflicting across her features thrilled him. Her dark eyes filled with tears that poured down her cheeks as she fought to breathe. Lambert was entranced by those dark eyes; so similar to his Emily, yet different, and unfulfilling. This had angered him, and he'd acted out, forcing the knife in over and over as if he could change her identity by brute force. The sound of a car starting up in the dark lot on the other side of the bar had distracted him, and he quickly leaned in against the dead woman, blocking the passing driver's view so they appeared to be a couple in a heated embrace in the parking lot of a bar. The car drove by without slowing. This had given Lambert the distraction he needed to pull himself from his trance. He acted quickly, moving the lifeless Melinda into the nearby dumpster, flashing a few photos with his camera, and making his escape in her car.

Now Lambert paced, chewing at his fingernails. Why hadn't killing the woman calmed him? It was supposed to have cleared his head. Instead it had made him want his real target even more. He paced over to the small, cramped closet to step inside. He flicked on the single red light bulb that he had purchased from the hardware store, and let his eyes adjust on the developing photos, clipped to the closet hangers. He couldn't help but smile, or the calm that settled over him as the images became more focused in the dim light. In the dark, Melinda was a perfect doppelganger for Emily Prentiss. He pulled one of the photos from the clip, smiling at it as he stepped from the closet. He carefully tucked the photo into one of the large manila envelopes he'd bought in the hotel lobby and scrolled a short message.

_Close, but no cigar._

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><p><em>Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and REVIEWING these last few dialog heavy chapters. I promise, now that I've got the back story all developed, the action is going to pick up! Click that little button and let me know what you think. Oh, and yeah, Lambert even creeped me out a bit in this one :_


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: And we're off! Thank you all for your reviews, alerts, favorites, and the likes. **HGRHfan3**5-Your reviews help me immensely. I also second guess whether things I write are plausible or realistic. **SmilegyGidget-**Your reviews crack me up, and I appreciate the "Spoiler Alert" addition. **You'llRememberMe-**Good catch, yes Foster and Forester are very similar names, I did that for a reason, stay tuned. Special thanks to **kp3477** for keeping me motivated and on task...most of the time. Read On!_

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><p>In was nearly 2pm when Morgan cracked open the door to Garcia's office and poked his head in.<p>

"Hey Baby Girl," he smiled and she spun in her chair to face him, "how about some lunch?"

Morgan pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped in, revealing the large paper bag he carried in his hand. A bright smile split Garcia's face and she shoved the empty chair with her foot. The chair rolled across the room and he caught it and sat down. He quickly pulled the plastic takeout containers from the bag, handing her the pita bread sandwich and small tub of macaroni salad.

"Oh, you read my mind," Garcia greedily accepted the containers.

"More like your stomach. I could hear it all the way at my desk," he teased, "Where's your sidekick?"

Garcia lifted her hand over her full mouth and spoke around the half chewed pita, "She's outside, doing her outside thing."

Morgan raised an eyebrow and stole a bite of her macaroni, "her outside thing?"

"She said she wanted to go look around to get a feel of what Lambert was doing here," Garcia shrugged.

"She does know that we already did that right?" Garcia gave him an innocent smile and took another bite of her sandwich. Morgan laughed, "You didn't tell her did you?"

"I want to see what she comes up with, ya know, see how accurate it is to what we found."

"And just how long has she been out there?"

Garcia looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall and frowned. She had lost track of time. "Just under two hours."

Morgan laughed and shook his head, changing topic, "How's it going with the laptop?"

Garcia spun slowly in her chair to face the laptop on the desk at the back of the room. She glared at it, suddenly irritated.

"It's coded, I'm having some trouble getting in," Garcia confessed, "I need a cipher to tear down the firewalls. I've got like six different diagnostics running on it though, it's just gonna take time. Reid's working on the cipher too, so, here's to hoping."

Garcia finished off her sandwich and handed him what was left of the macaroni salad, "How are things on your end? I sent everything I could find on that Forester guy to Hotch an hour ago, but I haven't heard anything since."

"We're reviewing it," Morgan answered, "the guy was a nut job."

"Uh, yeah, ya think," Garcia grimaced, "What part of the turning children into assassins tipped you off?"

Morgan smiled and they sat in silence for a few minutes. Garcia watching the download bar slowly reaching for 4% completion on the laptop's diagnostic, while Morgan finished off the container of macaroni salad. This was their least favorite part of the job. They had the leads, but they were stuck in idle mode, until one of them pointed them in a direction to go. They knew Lambert was out there, and was evolving in his obsession with the team, and singling out Emily. They had taken precautions, posting agents on her home and making sure she went nowhere alone. They had searched his hotel room, and rental car; but were nowhere closer to finding his new alias. They had also found a big piece to the puzzle in solving the D.C. Unsub case. They had a suspect, though they actually knew very little about him, or his motives. They had been given insight into the project for which he was named, but until Garcia got into the computer files, or they tracked down the illusive _Foster_, they were still stuck.

"How's Emily doing?" Garcia asked, breaking the silence. Morgan sighed.

"Doesn't look like she's fighting her headaches today," he answered honestly, "but she just seems unfocused, a little out of it. I think she's back on the meds."

"She wasn't supposed to be off them to begin with," Garcia corrected, "plus, I recall her colliding with the concrete yesterday morning."

Morgan shrugged, "Yeah, I know. I just know she doesn't like taking them, so for her to be back on them, she's hurting more than she's letting on."

"I didn't think about it that way," Garcia frowned and suddenly smacked him in the arm, "why did you have to tell me that? For a second I was happy she was following the doctor's orders. Now I have to worry about why!"

Morgan laughed and raised his hand in surrender, apologizing before she smacked him again. "She'll be fine, Baby Girl. I promise I'll keep an eye on her." He patted her on the knee and smiled, "We should probably go see what Cassi is doing."

He stood and offered a hand to Garcia and helped her with her coat before they left the office, in search of the consultant.

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><p>Cassi was standing in front of the lobby doors, ignoring the people shuffling around her to and from the doors, and letting the cold breeze hit her face as she studied the entire courtyard. She had walked the entire area, pacing across the grass, through the designated smoking areas, up and down each of the parking lots and even walked through each level of the parking structure. It had taken her nearly two hours before she felt she had mapped out the entire outside of the property in her head, and was ready to actually start putting together what had happened. Satisfied, she spun on her heels and walked back into the lobby, her glasses fogging at the change in temperature. She casually walked up to the security desk and showed her visitor badge, Garcia's earlier comment fresh in her mind.<p>

"Which one of you guys tackled Agent Prentiss?" she asked bluntly.

The guards stared blankly at the woman in front the desk, confused by her appearance and questioning. Cassi's eyes immediately spotted the blush creeping up a young guard's neck.

"I hear it was a good hit," she smiled and he blushed even more, "I'm helping Agent Prentiss' team find the guy responsible for that whole mess. Can I borrow you for bit?"

"I, uh, I already talked to Agent Hotchner and Agent Rossi about what happened," he stammered, "It was a misunderstanding."

"Sure it was," she replied, "I don't want to talk to you about it. I want you to show me."

The man looked confused. He glanced to his supervisor, who just shrugged, and then walked around the desk to her side. Cassi grinned as she shook his hand and introduced herself.

"Jared," he blushed to the tips of his ears, telling her his name, and for a moment Cassi wondered if she was the first female he'd ever spoken too.

"Alright Jared," she led him back outside, "I just want you to talk me through what happened yesterday. Walk me through it, step by step."

"Ok," he seemed unsure, "we received an immediate lock down notice from upstairs. Right as we got it, some guy handed me a photo of Agent Prentiss, and told me that she's somewhere in the building, and is to be detained immediately if seen. Right after he walked away, I hear a big slam, and see Agent Prentiss come flying out of the stairwell and toward the doors. I yelled at her to stop, but she didn't listen. I'm new, so I didn't know who she was, so I went after her. All I could think is that she was running from me, so I did what I had to, to stop her."

"Okay, so you start here," she motioned to the lobby doors, "Emily ran out the front door, what angle did you come from?"

"The side door there," Jared pointed, "she cut across the grass, so I thought I could cut her off from that side."

"Quick thinking," she said, without looking at him. She walked out in the grass, eyeing the parking lot and pointed in the opposite direction, "she ran this way?"

"Yes Ma'am," he nodded.

Cassi frowned, spinning looking between the parking lot to her left, and the parking garage in front of her, "don't call me Ma'am" she said as she walked further toward the parking garage. "This is where you hit her?"

"I didn't hit her," he squeaked.

"Sorry, this is where you…collided?"

"Looks about right," he answered, "how did you know that?"

"You scuffed your shoes," she answered. Jared looked down at the woman, now crouching down, eyeing the sidewalk, then to his feet. His shoes had in fact, been scuffed in the act of tackling the agent. He had spent all morning trying to buff them out.

"You were looking at my shoes?"

Cassi shook her head, and pointed to a faint black streak on the concrete in front of her, "No, I noticed this. When I sat down to look at it, I saw your shoes." She pivoted on her haunches, "then of course there's that."

Jared dropped down to crouch next to her, following her finger that pointed from the light scuff to another faintly off colored stain on the concrete.

"Coffee?" he guessed.

Cassi raised her eyebrows, looking at the guard for the first time since stepping out of the office. "Coffee? Really?" she was amused.

"What? It looks like a coffee stain to me."

"Was she carrying coffee while she was running away from you Jared?" she teased, "She hit her elbow right? I'm sure they sent a janitor out here to clean up once they realized there was blood on the ground. No one wants to visit a government building with bloody sidewalks. Blood stains are nearly impossible to get out of concrete. It's too porous."

Cassi stood and frowned again, looking between the parking garage and the parking lot. Something was nagging at her. She took a last look at the garage, and began walking away, toward the parking lot.

"She was going this way," Jared said, "toward the garage."

"I know," she ignored him and kept walking. "Is this parking lot always so full?"

"Pretty much, yeah. It's our employee lot. People are coming and going all day long. It doesn't usually start clearing out til after five. Why?"

"Do you guys patrol the lot?"

Cassi was walking between the cars, every few minutes turning to face the lobby doors, then taking a few steps in another direction, and turning again.

"Every hour," he answered, "what are you doing?"

Cassi had stopped at the far end of the lot, turning to look at the lobby doors and then dropped down onto her stomach, peering underneath a parked Buick. She grimaced, stood up, walked around the car and dropped down next to a different car a few spaces down.

"Gotcha," she whispered, ignoring Jared's question entirely.

* * *

><p>Morgan and Garcia walked from the lobby doors, out into the chilly courtyard. They scanned the area for a few minutes before Morgan spotted the uniformed security guard standing in the parking lot to their left.<p>

"What is she doing?" he asked.

Garcia turned to follow his line of sight as he started walking toward the lot. After following him for a few steps she spotted the woman, standing and walking around a car, and then disappearing behind another one. As they got closer she could see Cassi's feet sticking out from under a blue Mercedes and she slid herself underneath it.

"Cassi?" Garcia called out, and winced at the thump of the woman's head against the undercarriage of the car.

Cassi quickly slid herself out from under the car and stood, wiping the dirt from her sweatshirt with dirty hands.

"Checking on a hunch," Cassi answered, "Did you check the security footage of this lot for Lambert's car?"

"Of course," Garcia answered skeptically, "It wasn't here. We found his car in the far south lot cameras."

"Not from yesterday," Cassi corrected, "from whatever day he took the picture?" Garcia nodded. "He was parked right here wasn't he?"

Garcia's mouth gaped for a second, "how did you know that?"

"Look," Cassi moved to drop back down onto her stomach, before eyeing Garcia's knee length skirt and bulky heels, "Uhm, how about you instead, Pillar of Sexiness?"

"Morgan is fine," Morgan smirked and crouched down to see what she was looking at.

"This is the employee lot. Employees don't tend to sit in their cars for long periods of time." Cassi explained, "One of the effects of running a vehicle for any length of time, is condensation buildup that will drip down onto the parking surface. I simply found a spot with the best vantage point of the building entrance, that he could have taken the photo from, and then checked the spots for signs of condensation puddles. His car was leaking power steering fluid too, by the way." She looked down at her oily hands.

Morgan stood, and helped her to her feet. "Okay Garcia, I'm convinced."

"Convinced of what?" Cassi asked, smearing the wet dirt from her hands down the tops of her thighs.

"That you really do know what you're talking about," He smiled, "You might just help us find this guy."

"Thanks, I think," she said, "there's just one thing that's really bothering me."

"What's that?"

"Emily was chasing Lambert yesterday yeah?" she asked. Morgan nodded. "Then why was he running to the parking garage if his car was parked in the far south lot?"

Morgan swore under his breath, causing Garcia to frown, "What?"

"He knew Emily would follow him," he answered quietly, "there's only a few reasons he'd lead her out of sight. He might have planned to kidnap her again."

"Or he was gonna kill her." Cassi finished for him.

* * *

><p>Emily was working quietly at her desk when Morgan, Garcia, and Cassi stepped off the elevator. She looked up from her paperwork to greet them, but was instantly suspicious when Morgan failed to look at her, and made straight to Hotch's office. She frowned and turned to Garcia, who gave her a sympathetic smile. Now she was on alert. Something had happened, and she knew it had to do with her. Her friends were overcompensating. Cassi on the other hand, looked completely unaffected by their behavior, and made solid eye contact. Her eyes told Emily everything she needed to know. They had found something, and it involved Lambert.<p>

"What is it?" Emily asked Garcia.

Garcia winced. She knew Emily would have known something was wrong. The woman had a knack for looking right through her, and reading what was on her mind. She could lie to her; tell her that it was nothing. But they had kept Lambert's presence in D.C. a secret from her, and that hadn't turned out well. She was done lying. She wasn't any good at it anyway.

"Let Morgan talk to Hotch," Garcia answered softly, "then I promise, we'll give you all the details."

Emily nodded and glanced at Hotch's open office door. For a second, she was tempted to barge in and demand to know, but she agreed to give Morgan is few minutes. She sulked back in her chair, suddenly exhausted, and turned her attention back to the smaller brunette. The whole front of Cassi's sweatshirt was filthy, and she had oily handprint shaped streaks down the front of her pants.

"What happened to you?" Emily asked.

"I was laying down in the parking lot." Cassi answered.

Emily blinked at her, dumbfounded by the sincerity in which she'd said it. As if it was the most obvious reason for her appearance.

"Just decided to take a nap?" Emily teased.

Cassi opened her mouth to explain when the mail carrier pushed his cart passed them, and dropped a large yellow envelope on Emily's desk. Emily's chest tightened immediately as she recognized the handwritten block letters, addressing the front of the envelope. She snatched it up from the desk and frantically tore at its seal until its contents spilled out onto her desk. She could feel Garcia at her side, and her hand on her shoulder, but Emily was frozen. She had expected another photo of herself; maybe in front of the coffee shop, or even at her home. She was even half expecting a taunting letter, challenging her to come find him. However, she had been completely unprepared for the images spread out in front of her.

It only took her a moment to recover from her surprise and grab the phone on her desk. Hotch picked answered on the first ring and she didn't let him finish his greeting before speaking.

"Hotch, I got another photo," she spoke quickly.

Hotch didn't even acknowledge that he'd heard her before he hung up and was instantly emerging from his office, with Morgan on his heels. He all but jogged to her side, and was dialing JJ's desk the moment he saw the photo.

"JJ, get D.C. homicide on the phone," he barked into his cell, "See if they've had any new homicides of a young brunette woman. I'm sending Garcia to you with a photo," he handed the photo to Garcia, who snagged it away and took off toward JJ's office, "fax it to them, and see if they have a match."

Hotch hung up the phone and turned his attention to Emily. She sat forward in her chair, reading over the small paper that had fallen out of the envelope. _Close, but no cigar._ She ran her hands over her face, pulling her hair behind her neck, and sat back in her chair to look at him.

"That girl looks like me Hotch," she said quietly.

"He was a killer before any of this Prentiss. He was going to kill again regardless. He has to," he replied, "This is not your fault."

Despite her sudden overwhelming guilt, Emily knew that Hotch was right. Ben Lambert was a killer long before they'd been called into the case in Montana. It wasn't unusual for a serial killer to evolve his victimology to focus on one particular target, but Emily had never imagined that she would have triggered someone into such a rapid change.

She read over the note in front of her over and over, trying to make sense of it. _Close, but no cigar._ Had he meant she had been close to catching him in the courtyard, or that the woman in the photo was close to her age, build, and appearance. Neither scenario had ended with the desired effect, and the short message hit Emily twice as hard.

"…Agents are going to stay posted at your house at all times. I don't want you going anywhere by yourself, Prentiss."

Emily blinked up at Hotch, realizing he had been talking the whole time. She had spaced out into her own thoughts, still slightly foggy from the pain meds she had taken for her headache before work. The dull throbbing was returning, announcing that they were wearing off, and she wished she'd remembered to toss the pills into her bag. She nodded to Hotch, letting him know that she understood. Not that she wanted to go anywhere by herself right now anyway.

When JJ emerged from her office, Emily watched Hotch pick up the note from her desk and carry it off into the briefing room. He waved in Morgan and Rossi and closed the door behind them. She hunched over her desk and held her head in her hands, sulking in annoyance. She knew they would keep her informed, but she wasn't on the Lambert case anymore. Hotch had even made it specifically clear that she was to stay as far away from it as possible. She could do that. She would push it to the back of her mind, and put everything she had into stopping a different killer. Archer was the real challenge; the real _unknown subject_.

"Are you alright?"

Emily jerked her head up from her hands to the voice from the desk in front of her. She had forgotten all about Cassi. She had been there the whole time listening, and had witnessed Emily's moment of defeat. Emily blushed. The woman had an uncanny ability to sink into the background and reappear after the excitement was over.

"Um," Emily cleared her throat and shuffled the papers on her desk, "yeah, I'm fine. What did you guys find outside?"

"Where Lambert parked his car while taking the photos." Cassi answered.

Emily scowled, "I thought Garcia found his car in the security cameras."

"She did. I just like seeing things for myself. I like physical evidence. Videos can be screwed with and changed. I like to be able to see and touch it."

"Still doesn't explain the tension you all brought in here with you." Emily prodded.

"Yeah," Cassi shrugged, "I've never been one to beat around the bush. Lambert was leading you to the garage for a reason Emily. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Emily stared at her for a second, "What do you mean?"

"He was gonna kill you if he made it to that garage. But you knew that, and you risked it anyway. Why?"

Suddenly it made sense to Emily how the young woman had impressed Nicholas Wilks, and how she had built up such a reputation for herself. She was quiet and reclusive, easily mingling around without really being noticed. Everything from her reserved demeanor, to her simple style in attire allowed her to be overlooked while she listened, and learned. She was an observer; one that had been stuck in the office with Garcia all morning. There was no end to the personal information she may have learned from the analyst.

"What are you a profiler now too?" Emily joked.

"Oh, hell no," Cassi laughed, "You people are all crazy. I just pay attention, and Penelope talks a lot. Plus, I read the Montana case file. You don't strike me as someone that's gonna back down from a douchebag with a knife. You took him down once, and you were hurt. What's to say you couldn't do it again?"

"Douchebag? It's always you quiet ones you gotta watch out for," Emily teased, "I'm onto you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she smiled, " I, Agent Prentiss, am a professional," Cassi stood, patting the dirt at the front of her sweatshirt, "a filthy one, but a professional nonetheless. I'm gonna go change."

Emily laughed and watched the woman walk away. She was pleasantly surprised by Cassi's straight to the point attitude. Sometimes people need to be told when they'd made mistakes, and Emily was no different. She had been stupid to chase after Lambert alone. Cassi was right; she had taken him down once before. But it had nearly cost her life in doing so. She couldn't put her team through that again. Next time, she'd be more careful.

* * *

><p>Lambert sat at the small café iron table of his regular coffee shop and kicked his feet up onto the chair next to him. He flipped his newspaper down, and watched the sea of pigeons scampering about the open court in front of him. He despised the birds. They were vermin with wings that spread diseases and crowded the sidewalks. He missed the brightly colored blue jays and woodpeckers that flocked the forest back in Montana. As he listened to the noisy streets around him, and the squawking of the blonde on the cell phone behind him, his mood became even more foul. The hated the city; the sounds, the traffic, the people, and the lack of open space.<p>

He scowled at the birds, and lifted his newspaper in front of his face. He smiled at the story on the front page. The media had finally given the killer a name. The police were calling him Archer, a name no doubt leaked from a lackey cop. Lambert read through the article twice. Seven dead in three days, and the feds were chasing their tails. As much as he hated the city, he had to admit, it had produced one hell of a competitor. He laughed at the irony, and set the paper down on the table.

"Can I get you some more coffee, Mr. Frasier?"

Lambert looked up at the young brunette barista standing next to him. He gave her his most charming smile, and lifted his cup, "yes please."

"Starting to warm up finally," she said, pouring him a fresh brew.

"It certainly is," he replied, "you know, I've been coming here every morning for three weeks, and I've never once asked you to join me. I must be crazy."

The woman blushed and gave him a smile, "you must be. Unfortunately, mornings are kinda busy around here."

"How about dinner then?"

She thought for a moment, before pulling a pen from her apron and writing an address on his napkin. She smiled and gave him a wink, "Pick me up around eight?"

He smiled and tucked the napkin into his pocket, "I'll be there."

He watched her walk away before taking a sip from his fresh cup, tossing a 20 dollar bill on the table and hurrying off to his car. He had a lot to do before 8 o'clock.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Dun Dun Dunnn...I realize Cassi may have take over this chapter a little bit. My bad, don't worry. Our favorite team is still the focus! She's just fun to write. Click that little lonely button and let me know what you think!<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: I really do have the best readers! Thank you for your awesome reviews, alerts, and favorites. You really do help me get past my bouts of writer's block and sheer laziness. As a thanks, here's a quicker paced, action chapter. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The sun was just reaching its peak in the afternoon sky when they decided to sit down for a drink of water. Lambert watched the young brunette as she slipped her backpack down her shoulders and set it against a tree stump. Their dinner the night before had gone much better than he had planned. He'd learned everything he could about Rebecca Marrow. He'd learned that she was a sucker for the works of William Shakespeare, that she'd moved to D.C. to attend Georgetown University five years ago, and had fallen in love with the city, and that she loved the great outdoors. It was the last of these facts that had sparked his interest, and changed his mind about his evening plans. They'd chatted over dinner about all of the amazing outdoor adventures he'd had growing up, and the trips she planned to take in the future. She had listened, and appeared genuinely interested. It had even been Rebecca, who'd suggested the morning hike.<p>

"Isn't it beautiful?" Rebecca pulled him from his thoughts.

Lambert set his own pack down and turned to face her, nodding. She gave him a bright smile and the light breeze sent her dark locks waving against her face. Her dark eyes twinkled at him and he returned her smile with one of his own. It was good to get away from the city and into the familiar sounds and sights of the wilderness.

"It really is," he answered, "how far to the summit?"

Lambert knew exactly how far the summit of the trail they had taken was. He had spent the majority of the night studying maps of the area and browsing D.C. area recreation brochures. He also knew that they would never make it to the summit. He had a different route in mind. One that he was certain they wouldn't encounter other hikers.

"Only another two miles or so," Rebecca answered.

"What do you say to taking a little detour?" he asked, "I hear there is a really amazing canyon where the river drops down a few hundred feet in a series of waterfalls. Supposed to be really pretty. I want to try and get some photos."

He pulled the camera from his pack and waved it in his hand for her to see. She gave him another smile and tucked her water bottle back into her pack, before lifting it back onto her shoulders.

"A photographer too? You're just full of surprises," she teased, "I'm trusting you here, Mr. Outdoors. Don't get us lost."

"I won't get you lost," He smiled, "I promise."

* * *

><p>"Where are we in the Archer case?" Hotch asked, as soon as everyone was settled around the round table.<p>

"We've reviewed the file that Garcia put together on Forester," Emily answered, "The guy was definitely bad news, but it didn't really give us anything on Archer. Until we can get into that laptop, we're stuck."

"Rico's still in the wind," Morgan added, "we've got Agents on his house, and his workplace, but he hasn't been to either since yesterday."

"What about Foster?" Hotch asked.

"We still don't know who he is," Emily confessed, "none of the files we have on any of the victims have any connections to anyone named Foster."

"It might be another alias name, Hotch," Morgan said, "like Archer. If that's the case, his information is might be in that laptop as well."

Hotch nodded, "I spoke with Agent Parks again. Sikes isn't talking. He also let me know they'll be moving Donovan from the hospital into the jail's infirmary this afternoon. Our window to speak with him again is closing, so if you have any more theories or questions for him, I suggest we move quickly."

Morgan and Prentiss both nodded their understanding, and Hotch turned his attention to Rossi and Reid. "Anything on Lambert?"

"The girl in the photo's name is Melinda Reese," Reid began, "her body was discovered yesterday in the dumpster behind the bar that she worked at. The bartender said he saw her leave with a man after her shift was over. He gave us a positive ID on Lambert's photo."

Emily shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she eyed the photo of the woman's body. Lambert's note to her played over in her head, and she couldn't help the guilt that suddenly washed over her. She quickly adverted her eyes to Reid as he spoke again.

"The time frame in which the murder took place, suggests that Lambert may have went out in search of his victim, shortly after leaving here. He only had a few hours between the time he left this building and the bartender said he entered the bar."

"According to time stamps," Rossi added, "he used this time to return his rental car, and check out of his hotel room at the Hyatt. He also withdrew the max amounts available from multiple Visa cards belonging to Keith Frasier."

"He's using cash now, so odds are he's downsized his spending," Hotch thought aloud, "Circulate his photo to all of the hotels and car rental agencies in the D.C. metro area. He's gotta be staying somewhere."

"Already done," Rossi said, "nothing so far."

Hotch nodded and slowly looked around the room. His team looked exhausted, and Emily had already picked her left thumbnail down to its cuticle. He could practically feel the anxiety vibrating off her with every new piece of information they discovered on Lambert. He forced himself to look away, and realized they were missing someone.

"Where's Cassi?" he asked.

"She went out to get everyone lunch," Garcia answered, "With the Archer case still being a _need to know_ only case, I didn't think she had to be here for the briefing."

"Garcia, Lambert has been watching this building, and is now targeting brunette woman," Hotch explained, "I doubt he's been back since the incident in the courtyard, but if he has…"

"Oh my god," Garcia cut him off and grabbed for her cell phone, "I didn't even think."

The phone rang in Garcia's ear a couple of times before the woman's voice greeted her from the other end. Garcia let out a relieved breath, "oh thank god. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Cassi responded, "it's takeout. Last I checked it wasn't dangerous."

"Just hurry up, and get yourself back here," Garcia ordered, "and stay where people can see you, OK?"

Emily felt as if her heart had jumped up into her throat when Hotch had made the connection. It hadn't yet occurred to her that Cassi, even with shorter dark hair and deep blue eyes, would have a striking resemblance to Emily from a distance. Lambert had already killed one woman, who held a likeness to her. If he had been watching yesterday while Cassi was walking the courtyard, he could already be planning an attack on the consultant. None of them were safe anymore.

Emily watched Garcia frantically dial the phone, and let herself breathe when Garcia's face flushed with relief as she spoke into the phone. Cassi was alright, and would shortly be back in the office where they could protect her from the monster she'd been hired to hunt. Emily's mind was reeling with possibilities and she felt the room around her start to sway. She blinked a few times and stood to excuse herself, before hurrying to the ladies room. Once there, she quickly paced the short distance across the room, peeking under the stall doors to make sure she was alone, before stepping into a stall and locking it. She sat down on the edge of the toilet seat and let her head droop between her shoulders, trying hard to calm her nerves. A sharp pain in her head made her reach forward to steady herself against the stall door and she sucked in quick breaths, willing it to go away. When the pain subsided, she quietly cursed and stood to dig into her pocket for the pill bottle. She hated the way the pills fogged her head, and she had every intention of flushing the remaining tablets to rid herself of the obligation. However, her shaking hands refused to follow her commands, and fumbled with the child safe lid as she tried to pry it open. She was on the verge of hyperventilating when frustration overwhelmed her and she chucked the plastic container into the stall door in front of her. She ignored the bottle rolling between her feet, and quickly spun to sit back down. She closed her eyes and rested her face between her hands as she forced herself to take deep breaths.

Five minutes became ten, before her breathing returned to normal and she could feel the fog lifting from her brain. She had always been good at compartmentalizing her feelings into tightly locked boxes in her mind, but the knowledge that someone had been killed in her place had broken through one of those boxes. She blamed the pills for weakening the walls that kept her anxiety locked away. She wasn't herself when she was on them, but she was in pain when she wasn't. It was a double edged sword and she suffered with either direction. She had to choose which option was better. She could take the pills and dull the pain in her head, but she would be groggy and had already demonstrated a lack of judgment when she was on them. If she stopped taking them, she would be able to think clearly. At least until the headaches became too intense for her to focus.

She picked up the pill bottle and stood, turning it over in her hands, thinking. Now that she had gotten control over her shaking hands, she twisted the cap off and dumped one tablet into her palm. She took a deep breath, and tossed the tablet into her mouth, swallowing it dry, and dumped the remaining pills into the toilet bowl. If she had to suffer either way, she had chosen the option that made the most sense. Being unfocused was dangerous, and had already put Cassi in danger, without either of them realizing it. Without the dulling of the medication, she would be the only one affected. She could handle the headaches. She could not handle being responsible for anyone on the team getting hurt because she didn't see the threat coming.

She quickly washed her hands and splashed some water in her face before checking her appearance in the mirror. She looked tired, but no worse than she had earlier that morning. She dried her face on a paper towel and hurried out the door to rejoin the team. She jumped in surprise when she was met instantly by the wall that was Derek Morgan.

"Geez," she gasped, "you scared me."

"Are you alright?"

She forced a smile, "yeah, I'm fine."

She moved to duck around him, but he moved with her and set his hand on her arm, holding her back. She looked up into his concerned eyes and could see his determination in their depths. He wasn't going to let it go this time.

"Morgan, I really…"

"This isn't your fault Emily. You know that right?" he interrupted.

She stared blankly at him, listening, but not letting his words sink in. Nothing he could say would make her feel any differently. He sighed and released her arm.

"Hotch wants us to go talk to Donovan," he changed topic, "we need to see if he knows anything else about that Foster guy."

"Alright," she nodded, "Let's go."

* * *

><p>"Exactly how far are these waterfalls?" Rebecca asked.<p>

They had been walking off the beaten trail for nearly two hours, and this was the first that she had sounded suspicious of their destination.

"It's just a little bit further," he answered, "Don't tell me you're getting tired."

She laughed and turned to look over her shoulder at him, "Not a chance, but I swear, if you got us lost…"

They walked for another fifteen minutes before they could hear the bubbling of the quickly moving river. Rebecca took the lead and pushed on through the trees until she was standing next to the crystal clear water. Lambert watched her take in the sight of the thirty foot waterfall a few hundred feet to their left, and smiled. She had her back to him, and he could feel the anticipation building in his chest. They were miles off any trails and the roaring river echoed through the canyon. No one would hear a sound. He slowly gripped the hilt of the knife that he'd tucked into the waistband of his jeans and took a step forward.

"Wow, Keith, it's beautiful," she said without looking at him.

"I have a confession to make," he spoke in a low voice. She turned to look at him with smiling eyes, "My name isn't Keith Frasier."

Her face fell in confusion and he slowly revealed the knife in his hand. He could see the fear flash in her eyes as her situation dawned on her. Her dark eyes shot from the knife back to his face and she took a slow step back away from him, raising her hands in surrender. The gesture irritated him. Emily Prentiss would never just raise her hands and surrender to him.

"Why?" she croaked through her constricting throat.

"You made it so easy," he stepped closer and she took two, making him smile.

He watched the emotions swim across her features. At first she was terrified; her eyes filling with tears that fell down her cheek, and then to frustration, and finally to what looked like anger. Yes, Rebecca Marrow was pissed, and suddenly she wasn't the delicate waif he'd met yesterday. Her eyes held contact with his, and in their dark depths he saw a familiar look of determination. His memory flashed back to the mountain in Montana, where Emily Prentiss was defeated and yet stared him down, challenging him. He hadn't been able to accept her challenge then, but he was free now.

He lunged forward, but Rebecca surprised him by sidestepping his attack. The knife missed its mark and sliced through the flesh of her arm as she blocked the strike. She cried out in pain, but used his momentum to step in close to his chest, and brought her knee up into his groin. He grunted and dropped to one knee, gripping her backpack in attempt to hold her in place, and swung the knife out blindly. This time it connected, and he felt the blood from her back slick down the back of his hand. He retracted his hand and growled as he moved to thrust again, but she spun, slipping her arms from the straps of her pack and took off at a dead run. He was quick to recover, and easily caught up to her. He took her down hard, with both of them crashing into the underbrush and rolling down into the freezing water. He quickly found his balance and was relieved that the water was only about waist deep. He'd managed to keep his hold on her shirt through the fall, and forced her back into a large rock that protruded from the water's surface. She sputtered as the water rushed up the sides of the rock and into her face. It was only now that he realized he'd lost his knife somewhere in the tussle.

Still not ready to give up, Rebecca swung out, catching him in the face with a crack of her knuckles. He laughed at her attempt, despite the blood it brought from his nose. He gripped the collar of her shirt and lifted her from the rock, before slamming her back against it, smiling at the pained cry that it ripped from her throat. She slumped in his hands, slowly losing her fight to stay conscious. He watched her face closely, snarling as he wrapped his large hand around her neck and gave it a squeeze. Her eyes shot open and she clawed at his hand, ripping at thin skin there. He laughed and shoved her down the rock until her head was submerged in the frothing water. He was surprised by the fight she still had left in her when she pushed off the muddy river bottom and broke the surface, coughing, and spitting. Her palm shot up and caught his chin, pushing up at his face and he had to release her neck to grab her hands.

His vision went red and suddenly he was back in the bunker in Montana. His adrenaline was pushing through his veins like a flash flood as he got the drop on the Agent that had attacked him. Hotchner was curled in on himself, and Lambert was about to deliver a final blow when Emily had jumped him. The chain she'd used had cut into his neck, and no matter how hard he tried, he was unable to reach behind him far enough to get a grip on her. Fury boiled in him, and the image of Rebecca in front of him slowly began to change. Her eyes that were twinkling before, had taken on a pained, dark furious color, and her earlier smile was now a snarling grimace. Those two features were what he'd been looking for. She was an exact match.

He smiled and tightly gripped her small wrists in one of his much larger hands, while the other gripped at her throat again. Her eyes clenched shut as she realized that this was it, she had lost. Her body was giving up on her, and refused to fight him as he pushed her back under the water. He held her there until her muscles tensed and relaxed under his hands. He held her limp body under the surface for good measure, and was entranced by the red tinted water that swirled from under his hands and down the river.

Satisfied with himself, he drug the woman's limp body from the water and let it fall unceremoniously into the dirt. He stretched his muscles and flexed his jaw, realizing that his nose was still bleeding. Rebecca had an impressive left hook for her size. Chuckling to himself, he walked the distance back to his pack and retrieved his camera from the zipper pocket.

* * *

><p>The majority of the drive to the hospital was made in silence, until Morgan couldn't ignore the nagging in his gut anymore. She had completely brushed him off when he'd spoken his concern in the office, and he knew she was holding back. He also knew that she had a lot on her mind, and needed to unload it, whether she wanted to or not.<p>

"Prentiss, about earlier," he broke the silence.

"Morgan, please don't," she shook her head and peered out the side window.

"Come on Emily, talk to me," he risked a glance away from the road to look at her, but she stared straight ahead and ignored him, "What's going on with you?"

"I'm just tired," she said blankly, "this case is just more dead ends than answers, and it annoys me."

"This is more than you just being annoyed Prentiss," he argued, "you're on edge and unfocused. You aren't yourself today. You know we're here for you to talk to."

She turned at the tone he'd used to say it, and glared at him for a second before speaking.

"I'm fine."

"You're feeling guilty about what Lambert did to that girl, I get that," he argued, "but it isn't your fault."

"Yeah?" she spat out, surprising him, "Then you explain to Melinda's family that their daughter was stabbed to death and dropped in a dumpster like garbage as a message to me. You think they aren't immediately going to blame me. I triggered him, and now he's out there hunting for people that look like me. How is that not my fault?"

Morgan was surprised by her sudden outburst, but the driveway to the hospital gave him the distraction he needed to think for a second on how to respond. He pulled the SUV smoothly into the lot and turned his attention back to his partner.

"Emily…"

"I'm tired and my head hurts Morgan," she cut him off, "I'm tired of running into dead ends, and I'm tired of everyone watching me like I'm going to crumble. I don't need your pity."

"It isn't pity," he raised his tone to match hers, "its concern Emily. Look at yourself, you're wound up so tight that you jump at every sound, and you're fingernails are practically bleeding from the chewing."

"Save it," she snapped, "you wanna profile someone? How about you focus on the son of a bitch that's killing people right in our own backyard. If you really want to help me, just back off and let me do my job."

She opened her door before the SUV had even come to a complete stop, and he shook his head at her back as she stepped out. He hopped out and hurried around the hood of the car to catch up with her. She was already halfway across the lot when he caught up and grabbed her shoulder to make her face him. She spun quickly, ready to put the conversation to an end but her words were drown out by a deafening pop, and she hunched over and dropped to her knees.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Dun Dun Dunnn...Hope you liked the chapter. It was shorter than the rest, but size doesn't matter right? Quality not quantity and all that? Umm, yeah, anyways...Review and let me know what you think!<em>


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: WoW with the reviews! Thank you for reading and sticking with me. The speed of the story is going to be really picking up now, so expect faster updates! This one originally had a few more scenes to it, but it would have turned into a really really long chapter, so I am going to put the other half of it into the next chapter. This positive side being that I know exactly what I'm writing and it should be a quick update. Hope you like it, read on!_

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><p>The sudden sharp clap of sound shot through Emily's foggy brain and she dropped to her knees, gripping her head in her hands. Morgan was instantly by her side, gun drawn, and pulling her to her feet. The pain in her head subsided almost as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a slight ringing in her ears, and she shook her head to clear it. Morgan called her name and forced her to look at him.<p>

"I'm alright," she said, "Where did it come from?"

Instincts took over and she slid her Glock from its holster. Morgan was already moving, gun waving from side to side, searching for a target as he went. She mirrored his movements and followed closely behind him as the rushed through the chaotic scattering of scared bystanders.

"FBI!" Morgan's shouted, startling her.

She glanced around him, swinging her gun around to sight in on the two armed men in front of them. The men quickly acknowledged the verbal identification and moved their weapons off in different directions.

"Which way?' Emily shouted at the other Agents and dropped down, with Morgan, behind a half wall for cover.

"I don't," one Agent stuttered, "I don't know. We just walked out. I didn't see anything."

Emily took a moment to look at the Agent that had spoken. His suit was spattered in blood stains and he was kneeling over the still form of their charge. The man's head was nothing more than a gaping hole that had spilled out onto the concrete and soaked into the material of the Agent's pant leg. She swore and Morgan looked back at her.

"Donovan," she answered his unspoken question, "it's Archer Morgan, he's here somewhere."

They crouched low, scanning the nearby buildings down the sights of their guns, hoping to catch a glimpse of where the shooter might be hiding. They could hear sirens getting closer in the distance, and they knew their chances of spotting Archer were slimming. He was most likely already moving, and once the response teams flooded the area, he could easily walk right passed them in the chaos.

"Prentiss," Morgan reached back, tapping her leg to get her attention, "west end building, third floor window."

Emily's eyes followed his direction to the window and she watched it for a few seconds. A light shadow moved quickly across the frame, and Morgan tensed, ready to move.

"Prentiss, we aren't wearing our vests," he warned, risking a look back at her.

"It wouldn't make any difference if we were," she answered.

He grimaced. She was right, if the sniper wanted to take them out, a round from his rifle would rip right through their Kevlar. Emily shifted her stance behind him, pulling her gun closer to her chest and nodding at him. She was ready to move. He nodded back and ducked out from behind their cover, staying in a low crouch and running in the direction of the building. She remained close to his heels, using cars and trees for cover while keeping their guns trained on the window as they went.

They reached the door to the building just as the police response teams flew into the hospital parking lot. Emily tested the doorknob and found it unlocked and loose. With a ready nod from Morgan, she pushed the door open and he pushed in passed her and to the left of the door. She followed right behind him, moving to the right, and they quickly cleared the small entry way. The room was empty, and appeared to be closed up for remodeling. It was unlikely that the elevator would be working. That left only one access path to and from the upper levels. If Archer was still in the building, he couldn't get passed them without them seeing him.

They rushed up the three flights of stairs and burst through the door, into a hallway. Slowly, they crept along the walls, toward the room where they had seen the movement. Now that they were faced with the visible doorways, they realized there were more doors than windows, and exposed two possible doors to the room. Morgan tested the handle of the first door, finding it unlocked, and pushed it open.

The room was empty, except for a stack of plastic covered chairs in the center. It smelled strongly of fresh paint and appeared to have been recently remodeled. What caught their attention was the door against the left wall, adjoining the suite they suspected Archer was in.

"I'll take the other door," Morgan said quietly, "We'll take him from both sides."

She nodded her understanding, gripped her gun tighter and posted herself next to the door. She gave him a few seconds to move out to the other door, and her sharp ears heard shuffling on the other side of the door. The shooter was still in the room. She gave Morgan a few more seconds to get into position before taking a deep breath and shoving the door open with a crash.

She shouted her identification to the man in the room, yelling for him to get his hands up where she could see them before she even realized their mistake. In the fraction of a second that she had before Morgan broke in through the other door, she spotted the man standing near the window, rifle discarded on the floor. He was balanced on the tips of his toes, while his hands gripped at the metal cable around his neck. He had blood dripping from his nose and mouth, and his eyes were wild as they landed on her. In slow motion, she heard Morgan's first hit to the door and followed the sound to where the cable connected to a mechanical pulley, wrapped in plastic.

"Morgan, Stop!"

She screamed at her partner, but it was too late. Morgan kicked the door a second time, flying into the room with his gun drawn. The door frame splintered apart and the heavy door slammed into the pulley with a crash. Emily watched wide eyed as the machine spun to life and the man was lifted off his feet and into the air by his neck. His head connected with the ceiling, and the hook that the cable had been looped through broke, raining plaster as he fell back to the floor.

Emily gaped, gun still drawn on him as he choked and thrived on the floor. He was no longer hanging, but the loop in the cable had tightened from the pull, and was now digging deep into the flesh of his neck. Morgan quickly realized what had happened and slid to his knees next to the man. Emily simultaneously moved to the side of the room and secured the rifle while Morgan attempted to remove the cable from the man's neck. The man made it difficult, rolling from side to side as the pressure in his head caused the blood in his nose to clot and spattered down his shirt.

"I can't get it off," Morgan yelled in frustration, "it's too tight."

"Can you cut it?" she asked around her phone. She had already dialed and was waiting for the dispatcher to answer.

"Prentiss, I can't even get my fingers under it," he growled.

The dispatcher answered and Emily quickly identified herself and demanded help. With the number of police units that had responded, and the fact that they were across the street from a hospital, they had to be able to get medical help quickly. She prayed it would be quick enough.

The man was losing his battle against the cable constricting his windpipe, and they watched helplessly as he slowly stilled his movements. In only a matter of minutes from the moment they'd entered the room, the man was dead. Morgan remained kneeling at his side, trying to make sense of what had happened. Emily gave him some space, and waited near the doorway for the medical team. When the paramedics exited the stairwell down the hall, she met them halfway and turned them around. They were no longer needed, and the room had become a very important crime scene.

Morgan was hanging up his cell when she entered the room, and he pushed himself up from his knees.

"I called Hotch?" he ran his hands over his face, "CSU is on the way over. He wants us to secure the scene and find whatever we can before they get here. What the hell happened here Prentiss?"

She slowly scanned the room without answering. She had no answer to give him. They had walked up to the hospital with only the intent to get more information from Donovan. In a matter of minutes, two people were dead, and their case had dissolved. She walked over and crouched next to the body, giving his face extra attention and tried to imagine what he had looked like without the broken nose and blood covering the lower half of his swollen face.

"Morgan?" she pointed, "is that who I think it is?"

"Rico?" he grumbled, "yeah, I'm pretty sure it is."

"You think he shot Donovan for talking?"

"I don't know Prentiss," he sighed, "I'm more concerned with how he ended up like this."

Morgan crouched down and pulled the plastic off the top of the pulley, grimacing at it. Whoever had planted it there had thought out the plan to an exact science. The machine was placed in a corner at an angle that had made it nearly impossible to see to anyone not looking for it. Covered by the crumpled plastic sheet, it was well disguised. It was a simple set up. Whoever had set the trap simply had to screw the hook in the ceiling and set the pulley. The part that had Morgan confused was how they had managed to get the cable over the hook and around Rico's neck so quickly.

"This had to have been Archer," he said, "it's too precise and well executed not to be."

Emily agreed and paced the room, looking for anything else that would give them a hint to what to do next. She stopped next to the window and peered out over the hospital parking lot. The police had surrounded the area and were beginning to herd people into groups to clear the crime scene. She squinted toward the door, the distance making it impossible to see what was going on.

"That's a hell of a shot," she said quietly, "whoever shot him knew exactly what he was doing."

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><p>It was well after dark when they drug themselves off the elevator and into the bullpen. Hotch had met them at the crime scene shortly after the CSU team had arrived, and they had walked both scenes for hours. They were exhausted and frustrated by the lack of any solid evidence they'd recovered.<p>

"Oh thank god you're back," Garcia said, as they sat down, "Are you alright?"

"He wasn't shooting at us," Morgan grumbled, "we're fine."

Morgan usually reserved a much lighter tone for Garcia, and Hotch tuned in to the change in the man's demeanor. He and Emily both appeared to be on edge from the incident, and they were all frustrated by the events.

"How close are you with the laptop Garcia?" he asked.

Garcia cleared her throat and looked away from Morgan to meet Hotch's eyes. "Halfway at best sir. It's got a lot to weed through."

He wasn't happy with the response, but he nodded his understanding. There wasn't anything else for them to do until something else presented itself. It was late, and they were all tired.

"Alright, then I guess we call it a night," he announced, "get some sleep and we'll pick it up at 0800."

"Um," Cassi poked her hand up in the air, getting his attention, "sorry, but, what about me? You said I can't go anywhere by myself now. I'm assuming that means my hotel?"

Hotch winced. He'd meant to set up a security detail for the woman, but the shooting and double homicide of their leading witnesses had distracted him. Garcia saw the flash of discomfort on his face and stepped up next to him.

"You're coming home with me," she blurted out, "I've got space, and a state of the art security system. Not to mention my own FBI escort to and from."

She winked at Morgan, who shook his head with a grin. Cassi arched an eyebrow at Hotch, and he conceded with a nod. It would have to do for now. He really didn't want to take more Agents from the streets on this case anyway. If Cassi didn't have a problem staying with Garcia, then he would approve.

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><p>It was a little after 10:00 when Morgan dropped the girls off at Garcia's apartment. He watched them from the car until they waved and disappeared behind the security door of the complex before he pulled away. Garcia jabbered small talk as she led them up the hall to her apartment door.<p>

"Welcome to my humble abode," Garcia grinned and pushed the door open.

Cassi stepped in and squinted in the dark before Garcia flipped on the lights, flooding the room with color. Cassi stood in the doorway with her duffle bag hanging from her shoulders as if she were afraid to completely enter the room. The entire room was a retinal overload with its wild patterned curtains and shelves overflowing with multicolored knick knacks. A large fern of some sort attempted to tangle in Cassi's feet and she kicked at it as she followed Garcia into the living room. Garcia stopped and spun in the middle of the room, raising her hands to present her home with a smile. Cassi's eyebrows shot to her forehead and she forced herself to return the smile. For the first time since her arrival in D.C, she felt completely out of her element.

"Wow, you have a lot of," Cassi poked at one of the terracotta figurines that lined the top of the half bookshelf against the wall, "these things. What the hell are these things?"

Garcia laughed, "They're chia pets. You've never seen a chia pet?" Cassi's blank expression answered her question. "You water them and they grow to look like hair," Garcia explained.

"Yours don't have hair," Cassi frowned at the bald heads of various characters and animals.

"That one did, once, but it died. I'm not good with plants," she pointed to the overgrown fern that had tried to trip Cassi, "Audrey two over there has been my only success."

Cassi raised an eyebrow at the plant and gave her another half smirk. She had no idea what an Audrey two was, but she was sure she'd stay away from it.

Garcia excused herself and disappeared into the adjoined bedroom to collect some bedding material, and Cassi risked a few steps around the room. Her attention was drawn to a large blue sculpture of a long limbed alien on another nearby shelf. She laughed at its ridiculously bulbous head and reached up to touch it. She jumped and stepped back when it let out a loud screech and its twig like arms wiggled around as it began to belt out Tina Turner's _I will survive._

Cassi shook her head and laughed at herself before setting her duffle on the floor and carefully sitting down on the floral print couch. She could hear Garcia shuffling around in the other room, but another sound caught her attention. She canted her head, trying to locate the small scratching sound and frowned when she tracked it to the middle cushion of the couch. Her brows furrowed deeply over her eyes and she swore she saw movement in the cushion. Suddenly the cushion erupted in a flash of brown and white and she shot up from her seat with a yelp. She made out two beady eyes and a pointy pink nose before the backs of her knees caught the edge of the coffee table and she was falling over. She caught herself on her hands and spun away from the creature just as Garcia rushed out of the room with an armful of blankets.

"What?" Garcia shouted, "What happened?"

"What the hell is that?" Cassi shouted, pointing at the empty spot where the creature had retracted back into the cushion.

Garcia dropped the blankets into a heap and rushed around the couch, looking at the empty cushions and back to Cassi laughing. Cassi watched from a distance as Garcia pulled the cushion from the couch and reached down deep before pulling the creature from its depths. The ferret wiggled in her hand, playfully chewing at the ring on her finger.

"Relax," Garcia smiled, "it's just Chester."

Cassi let out a relieved breath and stepped closer, embarrassed by her reaction, "It lives in your couch?"

"It's his favorite hiding spot," Garcia giggled and handed the ferret to Cassi, "don't worry, he doesn't bite."

Cassi eyed the rodent squirming in her hand with a look of distaste, "he smells."

Garcia laughed and flung a large purple sheet over the couch before tossing a pillow to Cassi. Cassi caught it against her chest and set Chester on the floor so she could help Garcia make up the couch for her to sleep on. Chester pounced at their feet a few times before taking off to Garcia's bedroom in a playful gallop. Cassi wasn't particularly fond of indoor pets, but she had to admit that Chester was cute.

After the couch was made up with an assortment of fluffy pillows and a bright down comforter, Garcia plopped down into the chair on the opposite site of the coffee table.

"Sorry for the couch," she said, "I'm just me, so I don't really have much need for a guest room."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Cassi grinned, "I've slept in much worse places. Believed it or now, a few of them even had bigger rats than chester."

"Gross," Garcia laughed, "Yet another reason I'm not big in the outdoor recreation stuff. You're job is crazy."

"_My_ job is crazy?" Cassi scoffed, "If I'm not mistaken, it's _your_ job that's got me under house arrest."

She'd meant it as a joke, but Garcia's face told her that she'd hit a nerve with her comment. Garcia was worried.

"I'm sorry Penelope. I was joking, I really don't mind," Cassi backpedaled, "this isn't even the first time someone I've been tracking has turned the tables on me."

"Oh, I'm not offended, don't worry," Garcia recovered quickly, "It's just been a rough few months around here, with everything that happened with Lambert in Montana. Those days they were missing, and the first few at the hospital, were the scariest days of my life. I just worry about them, ya know?"

"They seem like a group that's pretty capable of taking care of themselves," Cassi said, "I don't think you've got much to worry about."

"Oh they are! They're the most capable people on the planet. But I can't help worrying about them. They're my family."

Cassi let the words sink in for a moment. She didn't have any family herself, and worked alone for the most part, but she slowly began to understand the eccentric woman in front of her. She incorporated bright colors and simple humor into her everyday life, using it to battle the darkness of the job that surrounded them. She was bright and bubbly, and no matter how stressed out and irritable the rest of the team had become, they always had a smile for her. Without realizing it, Penelope Garcia had become the glue that held the group's sanity in place on more than one occasion. As Cassi observed the woman, she had an overwhelming feeling that she needed to protect her, and she knew she had to do anything she could to help.

"I'll find Lambert Garcia," she said somberly, "I promise."

Garcia smiled and stood from her chair, pushing Cassi back over the couch as she walked around it.

"I know you will Scout," Garcia patted the top of her head like a child and yawned.

"Scout?" Cassi raised an eyebrow as Garcia clicked off a nearby lamp, "that's not cutesy, funny, or embarrassing like all your other nicknames. Why scout?"

"Well, it's what you do isn't it?" Garcia smiled, "scout ahead and find those that are lost."

"I guess so."

"Plus, when you concentrate, you look like the kid from _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Put you in overalls and you'd be a spittin image," Garcia laughed when Cassi scowled, proving her statement. Garcia flicked the light switch on the wall, drowning in darkness. "Hope you're a morning person, cause I make the best blueberry muffins."

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><p>Most of the team was already in the office when Hotch led Jack into the bullpen the next morning. Emily and Reid looked up at him and gave Jack surprised smiles.<p>

"Hi!" Jack waved at them happily. He let go of his Dad's hand and jogged the short distance to the desks.

"Hi Jack!" Emily smiled brightly at the boy, "god you're getting big. What are you now, twenty-one, twenty-two?"

Jack laughed and dropped his backpack from his shoulders to the floor, "I'm six!"

"Are you sure?"

Hotch watched his son interact with his team with a smile for a few minutes before catching sight of the clock on the wall .

"Jack, buddy, we have to do some work a bit, Okay? Why don't you go sit in the break room and wait for me," Hotch gave Jack's shoulder a little squeeze and pointed down the hall to the break room, "It's gonna take me a little while, so why don't you work on your spelling while you wait."

Jack looked disappointed, but he followed his father's instructions, dragging his backpack behind him as he walked toward the break room. When he disappeared into the break room, Hotch turned back to the team.

"I'm sorry," Hotch said, "it was an in service day at his school. With everything going on, I forgot all about it. Jessica should be here in an hour or two for him."

They nodded at his unnecessary explanation. Jack was a very well behaved little boy, and they all enjoyed having him around to lighten things up once in awhile. Hotch's mood was always much lighter when Jack was around, but now that the boy was out of sight and out of ear shot, Hotch was back in business mode.

"Did you get the CSU report from the crime scenes to present to the team yet?" he asked.

Morgan lifted the file from his desk to show to him, "they faxed it over about fifteen minutes ago."

"Good, call JJ and Garcia, conference room in five."

Five minutes later they were all gathered around the round table with the new files printed out in front of them and Hotch took a quick headcount. They were all there, except Cassi, who had been asked to wait in the bullpen. The Archer case was still classified to the woman, but she didn't seem the least bit offended at being excluded. Hotch closed the door and turned to his team.

"We got the report back from yesterday's crime scenes," Hotch started, "Donovan, obviously died of a gunshot wound to the head. CSU was able to recover a .308 caliber bullet from the wall at the scene. Witnesses report hearing one shot and then nothing. Morgan and Prentiss can confirm. They found gunshot residue on Rico's hands and clothes as well as he fingerprints on the rifle. He pulled the trigger on Donovan."

"So they somehow find out that Donovan talked, and hired Rico to take him out," Emily pitched, "you think Archer knew they would, and that's why he left him alive?"

"After what I saw yesterday, nothing he does can surprise me anymore," Morgan shook his head. "How the hell did he get the drop on Rico at the exact same time that Rico killed Donovan? He had to have set him up."

"Medical examiner's report said Rico suffered a serious blow to the face before he died," Reid read from the report, "his nose and mid maxilla were fractured. Maybe Archer surprised him, hits him in the face with something, and used the time to pull the cable from the pulley, over the hook and around his neck before he was able to orient himself again. With proper planning, he would be able to execute the whole act in a matter of seconds."

"That would explain all the blood on his face," Morgan agreed.

"And the pulley was well hidden under a painting tarp," Emily added, "Rico wouldn't have seen it, especially when he was focused on shooting Donovan."

"So Archer goes to the room, sets up the pulley, and attaches the hook to the ceiling all before Rico gets there," Rossi thought aloud, "but how did he know that was the room Rico would use?"

"That was a difficult shot," Emily said, "Rico had to have had some serious sniper training to make it. Maybe Archer has similar training?"

"It makes sense," Reid offered, "they would most likely be looking for the same components to the location. It would have to be high enough to see over everything, but low enough that the wind wouldn't affect them. It would have to have a clear shot of the door and the flags out front would have been a perfect wind speed and direction indicator. They would have known the building was being remodeled and wouldn't have anyone inside. Overall it was the perfect position, and they both knew it."

"Archer just got there first," Rossi added.

"However he did it," Morgan said, "we're out of leads. Without getting into that laptop and finding out who this guy is, we're stuck again."

"I'm still working on it," Garcia said quietly, "maybe another day or so."

"Alright," Hotch sighed, "let's start from the beginning. We had to have missed something."

They all shuffled through their files, with quiet sighs and groans of frustration. It was going to be another long day.

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><p>Jack was sitting quietly at the table in the small office break room, scribbling on his homework when a woman he didn't recognize walked into the room. She carried a small pack of mini blueberry muffins in one hand, and an empty coffee cup in the other. She looked at him as she popped the lid off the cup and poured more coffee from the pot on the counter.<p>

"Who are you?" Jack asked suspiciously. He knew all of the people his father worked with.

"I'm Cassi," she mirrored his suspicion, "who are you?"

"I'm Jack," he watched her replace the lid, and move to sit across the table from him, "do you work here?"

"No," she answered, "do you?"

A smile threatened the edges of his mouth at the ridiculous question. Of course he didn't work here. He was only six, and kids didn't work for the FBI. He shook his head no, and turned his attention back to his spelling words. He felt the table under his hands shift slightly, and looked up to see the woman leaned forward, peeking at his paper.

"Whatcha doin?" she whispered.

"Spelling. I already finished it last night, but my Dad said to practice while I wait for him. Do you know my Dad?"

Cassi eyed the little boy in front of her, and could place the carbon copy concentration scowl anywhere. He had to be a Hotchner kid. "Your Dad sounds like a smart guy. I would guess he's probably the boss around here huh?"

"Yeah, that's him," Jack smiled and eyed the pack of muffins in her hand as she pulled the edges of the plastic open. "Can I have one?"

She set the package on the table in front of her, and spun it until the opening faced the boy. He smiled and reached across the table, stretching his arm as far as he could toward the bag. Just as his fingers brushed the edges, she turned the opening to the side and he missed the hole. He looked up at her, confused, and she gave him a half smile and turned the bag back to face him. He smiled and tried again, but she was faster, spinning the bag in the other direction. He laughed and stretched farther, propping his knees on the chair for more distance. The opening revealed itself again, and this time he shot his hand out fast, laughing as it hit its mark and he flattened the entire bag, squishing the muffins, with a solid smack.

Hotch entered the room to the sight of his son, practically laying across the table, just before he flung his hand out and slapped it down on Cassi's breakfast. Both of their head spun up to look at him as he spoke, and Jack scurried back into his chair, embarrassed that they'd been caught, "What's going on here?"

"Spelling," they both answered innocently.

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><p>Emily stared blankly at the computer on her desk, clicking through the old emails that had piled up while she was gone. Most of them were just confirmation notes from Strauss that her reports had been received, and accepted, or letters from the courts, telling her that their cases had been closed. She blinked at the blurry text and winced at the ache in her head. She sighed and closed the email, and opened the next one, sent by Garcia a few days prior. The computer speakers made her jump as they burst a high pitched celebration jingle and two animated kittens carrying balloons tap danced across the screen, welcoming her back to work. She laughed and quickly shut off the speakers, blushing at the look Reid gave her from his desk. She shook her head, smiling and clicked on the next unread message.<p>

Her smile was gone in an instant and she shot to her feet with a gasp. Morgan and Reid were on their feet instantly, and rushing around their desks before she even really comprehended what had happened. Morgan saw the image on her computer screen and yelled across the room to Hotch, who was sending Jack off with his aunt. Hotch quickly waved them away and jogged over to the desk. His eyes went to the image of the woman's body that covered the screen of Emily's computer, and he swore under his breath.

JJ chose that moment to hurry into the room, waving a piece of paper in the air, looking pleased with herself, "Hotch, I just got off the phone with Agent Parks. He said Sikes is ready to talk, but he will only talk to us."

Her face fell from pleased to worried when she took in the flushed faces of her friends, and Emily looked ready to fall over.

"What?" she asked, "What happened?"

"JJ, get back on the phone to DC homicide," Hotch said quietly, "we need another ID on another photo."

"No we don't," Emily surprised them with a shaky voice, "her name is Rebecca. She works at the coffee shop down the street from my apartment."

Morgan swore and closed his eyes, dropping his head so he wouldn't have to look at the agonized look on his friends face. If she hadn't been feeling guilty before, she was definitely feeling it now. Hotch set his hand on Emily's shoulder, and addressed the other two men, "Get Rossi and head to the coffee shop. Find out everything you can there and then go to her home."

Hotch watched them jump into action and follow his instruction. He waited until they were gone before turning back to Emily. She was still standing a few feet back from her desk, chewing on her thumbnail, while her other arm was crossed tightly over her chest, and she stared passed him at the screen. He stepped in front of her, breaking her sight of the picture and she blinked up at him with wide eyes.

"Emily sit down," he instructed, "are you ok?"

She took the back of the chair from his hand and sat down shaking her head, "of course I'm not okay with this," she pointed to the computer, "but if you're asking if I can still my job, then the answer is yes."

"Why don't you take the rest of the day," Hotch began, "I can have someone take you home."

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed, "Hotch, I can't go home after this. I will wear a hole in my hardwood pacing all day. You need me to go with you to talk to Sikes, and I need the distraction. Please Hotch, let me stay and help."

Hotch knew that she was beyond emotionally involved, and was more on edge than he'd ever seen her, but her eyes pleaded with his as she visibly shook from her frayed nerves. He let his own emotions interfere with his better judgment and he nodded his head.

"Okay Prentiss," he conceded, "take a few minutes. Then we'll go talk to Sikes."

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><p><em>Author's Note: Well, what did you think? Like it? Next up, The evil Sikes, and a breaking point for poor Emily. Wanna see it, click that Review button and let me know!<em>


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: WOW Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! You guys are the best! So this chapter didn't come quite as quickly as I'd hoped, but I still wanted to have quick update, so I worked on it a lot. There is a lot of dialog and back story in this part, but its kind of important. Read on!_

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><p>Hotch and Emily sat in silence as they waited for Agent Parks to bring Sikes to the interrogation room. The other Agent hadn't been particularly happy to see them, but after Donovan had been executed while in his team's custody, he was far less willing to dismiss the importance of the information that Sikes held.<p>

The loud click of the door latch opening announced their arrival, and they straightened in their seats. They watched as Sikes was led into the room and forced into the chair on the opposite side of the table. Due to his broken finger from their last encounter, his hands were left free of the table restraints, and his cuffs jingled to his lap. His flexed shoulders and drawn facial features screamed defiance, as he glared at them. Hotch stared right back at him, and for a moment, his gut told him they this interview wasn't going to go as smoothly as they'd hoped.

"I was told you wanted to speak with us, Mr. Sikes," Hotch broke the silence, "here we are."

Sikes looked from Hotch, to Emily, and back, before turning to glare at Parks. Parks was still standing right inside the doorway, and he glared right back at Sikes, unwilling to be bullied. At Hotch's quiet request, he finally broke eye contact and slunk out of the room with a sigh. Once he was gone, Sikes smirked and turned back to Hotch.

"I want to make a deal," Sikes leaned forward and folded his hands on the table.

"I'm listening," Hotch tilted his head curiously, encouraging him to keep talking.

"If I'm going to prison, I want to spend my time in general population," he spoke quietly, "You see to that, and I'll tell you everything I know about whose killing my guys."

"We can't do that," Hotch answered, "It's not up to us."

"You want to solve those murders, Agent Hotchner, you'll find a way to make it happen."

Sikes sat up straight and looked amused by his demand. Hotch studied him for a moment, trying to read what was really going through his mind.

"Your men are dying, and your gun operation is crumbling," Emily spoke up, "Doesn't that bother you?"

Sikes looked away from Hotch and eyed her with a predatory smile. Emily could feel the irritation building as his eyes wondered all over her. He was toying with them, and she was out of patience. She hoped Hotch would step in before she said something she regretted.

"We know about Archer, Mr. Sikes," Hotch drew his attention.

Sikes' smile fell, and he shifted in his chair. Hotch had hit a nerve, and he could see the confidence in his eyes start to fade. Hotch was thankful for the breaking of his defiant shield, but Sikes' surprise also unnerved him. If Sikes didn't know that Archer's name had been leaked, then he didn't know that Donovan had spared, only to deliver a threat to him.

"I can't promise you that you won't end up in maximum security," Hotch said, "in fact is highly unlikely. But if you tell us what you know, I'll talk with the D.A. and tell them you cooperated. That's the best I can do".

"I don't know anything about Archer. Nobody does," Sikes laughed, "That's what makes him so good."

"Who hired him to kill your men?" Emily prodded.

"Nobody hired him," Sikes laughed again, "you guys really have no fucking clue, do you?"

"Then explain it to us," Emily raised her voice, irritated by his laughing,

Sikes sat back in his chair and let out a deep sigh, thinking over his options. After a few seconds he sat forward again, and made eye contact with each of them while speaking, "You wanna know about Archer, you have to look into my old partner."

"Gary Forester," Hotch confirmed, "we've already got his laptop."

"Well then you know all about the project," Sikes grumbled, "what are you talking to me for?"

"We haven't cracked it yet," Hotch confessed.

"That sounds like Gary," Sikes chuckled, "he was always too damn paranoid for his own good. Alright Hotchner, I'll tell you everything I know about Forester's project, but you have to do one thing for me."

"What's that?"

"You keep that son of a bitch Archer off my ass. I know he's out for my blood"

"Help us stop him," Hotch nodded, "tell us what you know."

Sikes propped his elbows up on the table and scooted closer, preparing himself for a long story. Hotch and Emily watched him intently as he began.

"Back when we first got started, we were havin some problems with competitors pickin off our guys. So Forester comes to me with some idea about training some strike guys of our own, ya know, to carry out some orders and clean house."

"Hit men?" Emily clarified.

"Sure, if that's what you want to call them," Sikes smirked, "but good quality guys are hard to find without costin a fortune. Back then we weren't quite as well funded. So Forester comes up with this crazy plan one day; get some kids, and train them into soldiers. Of course I laughed him out of it. But he wouldn't drop it, and eventually became just obsessed with the bullshit idea. He kept sayin something about how a kid's brain is easily molded into whatever you taught him to be. Then one day he shows up on a site with some little boy, maybe ten or eleven years old. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me he was going to start experimenting with the project."

"Where did he get the boy?" Hotch asked.

"He said not to worry about it, and that no one would be lookin for him," Sikes answered, "I didn't ask, he didn't tell. I had a business to run, I couldn't waste time wondering what he was up to with some kid. Forester converted one of the supply shacks to living quarters for the kid, and filled the damn thing with books. Every time I saw him, the kid was reading. He'd be cryin about wanting to go home, but Gary just sat by and made him read."

"What was he reading?" Emily's mind flashed an image of Reid, as a child, hidden in his room reading. Only Reid enjoyed reading, and wouldn't be crying about having to do it.

"Manuals mostly. He had stacks and stacks of instruction manuals. Everything from military operation books, to human anatomy books, to instructions on how to hotwire a car. The man was insane. Every morning he had that kid out in the woods, tryin to teach him all these crazy survival methods that he had no idea how to do himself."

"Did he ever physically abuse the boy?" Hotch was sure he already knew the answer.

"I saw him smack him a around a few time, but none of that perverts crap," Sikes grimaced, "he was very particular about it, very professional."

Emily had sat silently listening to Sikes tell his story, and her mind was screaming at her to throttle the man for standing back while his friend abused a little boy. As hard as she had tried not to, her mind kept projecting the face of Jack Hotchner, and Randy Larson onto the boy in the story. It hurt her to think of either boy being kept in a shack and forced into militia a style training regimen.

"There is nothing professional about abusing a child," she said between clenched teeth.

"If you say so," Sikes dismissed her, "but whatever he was doing, it was working. The kid was smart. He used to help us with the gun shipments, and I'll tell you what, that kid knew everything there was to know about guns. A few weeks later, he starts getting a lot more physical with the kid, smackin him around. Beat the kid to a pulp one day, and when I stopped him, he just told me if the kid was gonna do our business, he had to be able to take a beating."

"And you didn't stop him right there?" Emily spat, "You're just as guilty of all this as he is."

Hotch refused to look at her as she spoke. He didn't want Sikes to notice that she was stepping into dangerous territory with her emotions, so he tapped her foot under the table with his own. She immediately stiffened and blinked away her anger. He could see how she had tensed her entire body, trying to keep her composure. She folded her hands on the table, and gave a miniscule nod, telling him she understood.

"I had my own problems to deal with," Sikes answered her question, "business was just starting to boom, and I was running it alone."

"Then what happened?" Hotch encouraged him to continue.

"Things went on like that for a few weeks, and the kid actually started getting tougher. After awhile he even started fighting back," Sikes laughed, "Broke Forester's nose once."

"So what happened that made you kick Forester out?" Hotch asked, before Emily could say anything.

"Things were goin fine, til one day, Forester shows up with another kid," Sikes looked around the room, as if someone else would hear the secret he had to tell, "a bigger kid, maybe fifteen. He just told me that he was moving the project to phase three. I only saw the other kid the one time, and then everything went back to normal, except I started noticing the kid wasn't eating and just didn't look right. He was extra jumpy and looked like he was never sleeping. I just dismissed it as another one of his crazy plans until a few days later, when I see the other kid's face on the news. Some camper's found him dead out in the woods, stabbed, with his throat cut."

Emily's breath caught as her chest clenched down around her lungs. He couldn't be saying what she thought he was saying. Her head swam at the mere thought of the act of the brutal death of a child. She swallowed hard, willing herself to breath and she moved her hands from the table to clench together in her lap, and bit her tongue to remain quiet.

Hotch had also forced himself not to react to the image that came to his mind, of a young battered and beaten boy, forced to take the life of another child. He hoped he was wrong in his assumption, but his gut told him he wasn't.

"What happened to the child?" Hotch's voice surprised him, with its even, steady tone.

"I confronted him with it, but all he said was that if the kid was gonna be a, killer, he would have to learn about death eventually. I still don't know whether Forester killed that kid and made the kid watch, or if he made the kid do it himself. All I know is whatever happened, the kid didn't handle it well. A few days later, Forester goes to the shack and finds the kid dead from a gunshot to the head. He offed himself. I told him that was it, the project was over and had failed, and to get his head back in the business. But he was obsessed. He kept telling me that he knew where he'd went wrong and that he just needed to start with a younger kid. That was the last straw for me. I had a business to run, and he was going to blow the whole thing with his crazy project. So I kicked him out."

"Of course you couldn't let the torture and deaths of two children get in the way of your business," Emily spat.

Hotch risked a glance at his partner, and immediately knew that she was done playing by the rules. She had been listening, and fighting her nerves throughout the entire story, but she was done pretending that it didn't bother her. He could see her hands quivering in her lap and could feel the tension radiating off of her as her eyes bore into the man in front of them.

"Hey, I didn't kill them," he spat back.

"No, you just sat back and watched it happen," her voice held an edge that made Hotch nervous. She was losing her cool.

Emily knew she'd crossed the line by the way Hotch began to collect the papers on the desk. He was preparing for a quick exit and she knew it was because he thought she was losing control. He was probably right. Her ears were ringing with adrenaline as anger bubbled up from her toes and made her see red; Anger with the evil monsters of the world that preyed on the suffering of the innocent. Monsters like Forester, like Sikes, and like Lambert, who had no regards for value of human life.

"You're just as guilty for the deaths of those boys as he is," she barked.

"Hey lady, if you can't handle the game, then don't play," Sikes growled back, "how many times have people died because you didn't stop their killer fast enough? How does that make us any different?"

A vision of Lambert tracking down and killing Melinda Reese and Rebecca flashed in her mind, and she could feel her restraint fading. He had hit a nerve; one that had been exposed earlier that morning with the arrival of another photo of an innocent woman killed in her place. Her hands moved from her lap to the top of the table, and Hotch's hand went to her knee in attempt to stop her.

"Thank you for your time Mr. Sikes," Hotch said, preparing to leave.

"Forester was a crazy son of a bitch, I'll give you that," Sikes ignored Hotch and continued in a louder tone, directed at Emily, "but look at what he's accomplished. Archer _is_ the perfect soldier, and if I would have let Forester finish, Archer would be working for me, instead of against me. So yeah, I'm sorry I stepped aside instead letting him finish!"

Before Hotch could react, Emily was on her feet in a flash of movement, knocking her chair backwards and shoving the table into Sikes' chest. The impact knocked his chair backwards and he landed on his back with a grunt. Their papers scattered to the floor as Hotch dropped them and moved around the table to grab Emily as she circled the table and moved to deliver a kick to the man's chest. Sikes brought his cuffed hands to his facing, laughing as he prepared for the kick. Hotch wrapped his arms around Emily's chest, trapping her arms in a bear hug and he spun her around before she could carry out her assault.

"You deserve everything you get, you son of a bitch!" Emily struggled in Hotch's arms as Agent Parks and another Agent burst into the room, "Archer's coming for you, and you deserve every bit of it!"

"Declaw your cat, Agent Hotchner, before someone gets scratched," Sikes laughed.

"Get her outa here!" Parks yelled, and lifted Sikes from the floor.

Hotch gave up trying to fight her, and lifted her off her feet and pulled her backwards out the door. He pulled her all the way across the hall and into the restroom door on the other side.

"Get off me," she yelled and he dropped his arms as she pushed away from him, "I'm right and you know it Hotch. They tortured that little kid, and now he can finally fight back. That's justice!"

He saw her face for the first time since she had snapped, and he saw a complete stranger in her features. Her whole face was red and her eyes were burning with a fury he'd never seen before. Her entire body was quivering from the adrenaline soaring through her veins and her breathing came in oddly fast, shallow pants.

"Prentiss stop," he raised his voice to match hers, "look at yourself, you're out of control."

Her dark eyes pierced through him and she clenched her jaw, attempting to rein in her frustration.

"You just assaulted an inmate Prentiss," he scolded, "we'll be lucky if he doesn't press charges. Your action could have cost us this case."

Hotch was angry; with Emily, but mostly with himself. She had been on edge for days; disappearing to the restroom, and fighting off headaches from the lack of sleep that he could see in her eyes. He had seen that she was spiraling, and still he let her stay, in hopes that working would ease her mind. He was wrong, and it had blown up in his face. It killed him to have to do so, but he had to put his foot down.

"Go home, Prentiss," he kept his tone even as her jaw clenched, "You'll get your things from the office, and take a few days."

She glared at him without a word for a moment, before pushing past him, shoving the door open, and disappearing into the hallway. He took a deep breath, calming his nerves, and then followed her. It was barely noon, and his mind was already reeling with frustration.

* * *

><p>Rossi, Morgan, and JJ stood around Reid's desk while he and Cassi looked over a large map that they had draped across its surface. They had gone to the coffee shop where Rebecca worked, and according to the waitress they spoke too, Lambert had been coming to the shop regularly for over a month. Their next stop was Rebecca's apartment, where they spoke with her roommate, Cindy. Cindy had told them that Rebecca and Lambert had left for a hike the morning before, but she hadn't returned yet. After Cindy filled them in on all of her roommate's favorite hiking trails, they had hurried back to the office, and grabbed Cassi to assist with the map.<p>

"Cindy said that Rebecca was partial to this trail here," Reid ran the tip of the red Sharpie down a section of the map, highlighting the five mile long recreation trail. "but I doubt that Lambert would have killed her near a trail. He would have had to somehow get her away from the trail, where nobody would stumble on them."

"Her hair and clothes are wet," Rossi set the printed photo in front of them, "she was in the water at some point."

"Here," Cassi pointed to a light blue segment of the map, "the river flows fairly close to the trails in three spots. Garcia, can you bring up the elevation for these spots for me?"

Garcia sat across from Emily's empty with her laptop buzzing. She quickly typed in the longitude and latitude coordinates into the computer as Cassi read them out, before reading back the elevations.

"This area right here," Cassi made a circle with her finger on the map and Reid highlighted it, "steepest change in elevation means the river will be running fast here. If he could find a waterfall or some rapids, the sound could easily prevent any other hikers from hearing anything."

"That gives us almost six miles to search," Morgan grumbled.

"I know, I'm sorry," Cassi shrugged, "but it's all I've got until I can get up there and see for myself."

"I'll call the forest service and organize a search team," Rossi offered, "how soon can you have a profile of area Reid?"

"An hour or two," Reid answered, "With Cassi's help, we could have a team up there by this evening."

"Rebecca is already dead," Rossi, said quietly, "the team can hold off until the morning. No use getting someone hurt trying to find her in the dark."

Movement from the elevator pulled their attention from the map as Emily and Hotch entered the bullpen. Reid lifted his Sharpie in the air and excitedly waved it at them.

"Good, you guys are back," he spoke quickly, "we've got a basic idea of where Lambert may have left Rebecca's body. Rossi is going to call the forest service and Cassi is going to…"

Reid trailed off when neither of his friends even looked up to acknowledge him. Emily strode quickly passed Hotch, and refused to look at any of them when she reached her desk. Without a word she ripped her bag out of the bottom desk drawer before risking a glance at her friends, and turning to leave. She hurried to the elevator and was gone without so much as a word.

Hotch had watched Emily retrieve her things and leave before he quietly joined the rest of the team. They all watched him nervously, waiting for some sort of explanation to Emily's behavior.

"What was that all about?" JJ finally asked.

"Prentiss is taking some time off," he answered flatly, "What were you saying about the map Reid?"

"What do you mean?" Morgan interrupted, "what happened?"

Hotch desperately just wanted to forget the anger and hurt that Emily had held in her eyes for the entire silent trip back to the office, but the worried eyes of their friends pleaded for an explanation. A lot had happened in a short amount of time, and he wasn't sure which case took precedence anymore. Archer was the more skilled killer, and they had no idea where he would strike next. Lambert, on the other hand, was after one of their own, and had successfully driven her to the point of a breakdown. Hotch was the leader of this team, but he didn't want to be the one to choose which was more important.

"Emily is too emotionally involved in this case" Hotch explained, "she's still recovering, and I feel that it's in her best interest to distance herself from it."

They all remained quiet; letting his words sink in before he directed them back to the map. If they wanted to help Emily, they had to stop Lambert. In order to do that, they had work to do.

* * *

><p>"Look at yourself, you're out of control."<p>

Hotch's words echoed through Emily's head as she stared into the mirror above the bathroom sink. She barely recognized the person staring back at her as she glared with a dark distaste. Her eyes were red from their lack of sleep, and her gaunt features portrayed just how much weight she'd lost over the last four weeks. She turned away from the mirror, grabbing her half empty glass of wine, and flipped off the lights. Sergio bolted from her path as she nearly stepped on him in her retreat from the bathroom and hasty decent down the stairs to the living room. It was only 5 o'clock, and even though she was physically exhausted, her mind refused to shut down enough to let her sleep. Instead, she'd cracked open a bottle of Merlot, hoping the alcohol would calm her nerves and relax her. Nearly an hour later, she could feel the fog moving in over her brain, but still her nerves refused to give up their tight hold.

She stepped down into the den, and stood at the large window at the edge of the room, staring out over the lights of the nation's capital. As she took in the view, she wondered if Lambert was out there somewhere, staring back up at her. The thought made her shudder and she quickly pulled the curtains over the window and downed the rest of the wine her glass. She padded in her bare feet to the adjoined kitchen and retrieved the now half empty bottle of Merlot from the island counter. She popped the cork and refilled her glass with a sigh. She just wanted to clear her mind, but Hotch's words refused to quiet their assault on her pounding head.

Against her better judgment, she carried the bottle into the living room and set it on the coffee table as she sunk into the leather cushions of her couch. She flipped on the TV, hoping she could find a mindless sitcom to distract her from the day's activities but was met immediately by a reporter informing the public all about the shooting that had taken place at the hospital. She groaned and pressed the buttons on the remote hard to rid the screen of the image. The next four channels held something similar, and she felt her irritation growing. She hit her limit when a new station flashed a photo of the smiling Rebecca Marrow, announcing that the girl was missing.

Emily frowned at the image, and willed her fingers to press the button on the remote to switch the channel. The segment ended with the news anchors giving the missing persons tip line number, asking for viewers to call if they had any information on the missing woman. She stared at the screen through the commercials, mind buzzing. Five minutes; Rebecca had been murdered and her body had yet to be found, and all they'd given her was five minutes. Yet two low life dangerous criminals die, and they're story is told on every channel. Emily felt the building irritation turn on its axis back to anger and she took a deep glug from her glass. The commercials ended their reel and the familiar sight of the hospital parking lot popped up on the screen.

"Oh come on!" she shouted at the TV.

She pressed at the power button on the remote over and over but the image refused to go away. She'd meant to replace the batteries in the device, but she was rarely home enough to actually sit and watch TV. Her mind reminded her of the reason she was home now and anger gripped her. She shot up to her feet and smacked the power button on the front of the TV, silencing the reporter. She took a deep breath in attempt to calm her nerves when a light knock on the front door pulled her attention. She took a deep drink from her glass, and set it on the kitchen counter on her way to the door. She opened the door and was greeted by the smiling faces of JJ and Garcia. Garcia lifted a large paper and pushed her way passed Emily.

"We brought you dinner, and it's hot," Garcia smiled and set the bag on the counter.

JJ smiled at Emily and waited for her to actually invite her in before joining Garcia in the kitchen. Emily sighed and closed the door, latching the deadbolt, before following them. JJ helped Garcia pull the plastic containers of pasta from the bags and when Emily joined them, Garcia slowly stopped and turned to face her.

"God Emily, are you alright?" Garcia asked.

"I'm fine, why?" Emily shifted on her feet and pulled a couple plates from the cabinet.

Garcia watched Emily stretch to reach the plates, and the slight sway in her movements confirmed her suspicions. Emily was drunk.

"Because you smell like a brewery," Garcia scolded, "you're not supposed to drink while on your meds."

Emily rolled her eyes and set the plates on the counter next to them, "I'm not on the meds anymore. So I can drink as much as I want." To emphasize her point, she picked up the glass from where she had set it, and downed the remaining liquid. Garcia gaped at her and looked to JJ for backup.

"What happened with Sikes?" JJ asked.

Emily winced at the mention of his name and moved back towards the living room to retrieve the bottle from the coffee table, "Sikes is a gutless bastard that deserves everything that Archer's gonna give him," she growled.

Emily's comment surprised her, "Ok, but that's not what I asked."

"It doesn't matter. Can we just drop it?" Emily grumbled, pouring herself another glass of wine.

Garcia grabbed the bottle away from her and glared, demanding an answer.

"Why are you guys even here?" Emily said, "Where's Cassi?"

"Uh uh," Garcia shook her head, "you don't get to change the subject. Now what happened that warrants the consummation of an entire bottle of Merlot? What's going on with you?"

Emily ignored the question, and slowly staggered to the living room with her glass in hand, and picked up the TV remote. Her escape to the den failed as they followed her and continued their questioning. She had a white knuckled grip on the TV remote as she turned it on in attempt to drown them out. To further anger her, the same running story appeared on the television. Donovan's smiling mugshot filled the screen, and she felt her blood start to boil.

"We're not leaving until you talk to us," Garcia crossed her arms over her chest and she tapped her toe, standing her ground against her irritated friend.

Emily had had enough. She was tired of being the talk of the bullpen, and she was tired of being helpless. She'd been bullied by Lambert for three days, and she'd been stomped down when she stood up to Sikes. She wasn't about to let her two best friends bully her anymore. She was tired, in pain, and she was pissed off. She had to make them understand that she didn't want to talk. With alcohol fueling her anger she felt her grasp on sanity snap and she reacted violently.

Emily spun on her heels, yelling as she whipped the remote at the televised news report. It hit the flatscreen with a crash, and the image flickered away into a kaleidoscope of color as it flickered out.

"I don't want to fucking talk about it!"

Both women jumped at her sudden outburst and Garcia's earlier fearless stance vanished. Emily immediately regretted her actions at the terrified look on her friend's faces. She risked a look at the destroyed TV screen and back to Garcia.

"Garcia, I'm sorry," her voice cracked, "I don't know what…" she trailed off. There were no words to explain her actions. Hotch was right, she was out of control.

She didn't know what to say, so she retreated. She turned her back on them, and walked up the stairs, closing her bedroom door behind her. She had run away, and this time, they'd let her.

Once Emily had disappeared behind her bedroom door, Garcia turned to face an equally surprised looking JJ.

"What happened?" Garcia said quietly, "That was not our Emily."

"She's going through a lot right now," JJ answered, "She doesn't know how to handle it. You know how stubborn she can be."

"That wasn't stubborn Jayje, that was insanity," Garcia pointed to the broken TV, "that was a scream for help."

"Then we help her," JJ offered her a smile, "She's good at hiding things, but we won't let her face this alone anymore. She'll be alright Pen, I promise."

"One request though," Garcia nodded, gaining some of her confidence back, "can we let her sleep off the booze first? Emily's a mean drunk."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Alright guys, you have no idea how hard that last scene was for me to write. We've seen hungover Prentiss a few times, but never actually a drunk Prentiss. I was afraid of being too OOC with her in this one, but then I figured, when someone is at their mental breaking point, they usually aren't themselves anyway, right? Regardless, I rewrote that entire scene about 3 times before settling on this one. I even did one while I was a bit into the bottle myself, but that one really didn't make much sense lol. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this one! Please review or even send me a PM and let me know what you think!<em>


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: So sorry that this one too so long to post! I promise I'll try to be better about faster updates. It's my longest chapter yet, so hope that makes up for the delay!_

_Also, just to clarify some things that I didn't touch base on in this story, but had only put in the author's notes of "the hunt", which is the prequel to this; My timeline for this story is set in earlier seasons (around 3 and 4) so yes, Emily still lives in the cool view apartment, and the Ian Doyle thing hasn't happened yet. However, I like Sergio, so he exists in my world. Also, as always, Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story, and special thanks to those that give me feedback on all my chapters, and help me through my bouts of writer's block. You know who you are. You truly make writing this thing easier and more enjoyable! _

_And lastly, yes, I am the same RJ Russell that got the "super duper special mention" from Kirsten Vangsness on my short video. Kudos to those of you that made the connection. I'm not nearly as secret squirrel as thought! Okay, enough of that. Read On!_

* * *

><p>A shrill wail pierced through her consciousness, sending a sharp pain through her brain. Emily groaned and reached blindly for the alarm clock on the night stand. It continued to scream as she missed it twice, before finally lifting her heavy head to look and smacked her hand down on it. She groaned again, unsure whether it was from the pain in her head, or the fact she'd forgotten to turn off the 5 o'clock alarm when she didn't have to be at work. She tucked her head deeper into her pillow and pulled her blanket up to her chin, suddenly chilled and nauseous. Her head was pounding, and it wasn't the familiar kind of headache that had been nagging her for the last month. This was a hard pressure that made her feel like her head would burst at the slightest movement.<p>

She lay completely still for a moment, hoping for her stomach to stop flipping in summersaults, until her chill was gone and she found herself sweating. Despite her hoping, her stomach had made up its mind, and she threw her blankets off to roll out of bed. As soon as her feet hit the floor in the direction of her bathroom, the room shifted to the left and she reached out to steady herself. Her hand connected with the solid dresser, shoving the surface lamp over the edge, where it shattered against the hardwood. The resulting noise of breaking glass did nothing to help her head and she moved to stumble through the bathroom door, using the doorframe to support herself. She reached her destination just in time, tapping the door shut and dropping to her knees before ridding her stomach of the copious amounts of wine she'd dined on the night before.

Garcia was just seeing a very tired looking JJ out the front door when they heard the quiet beeping of an alarm clock coming from Emily's upstairs bedroom. They had spent the night, with Garcia in Emily's guest room, while JJ stretched out across the couch. Garcia had offered to share the guestroom, but JJ had declined with the argument that she had to leave early to meet up with the team, and didn't want to wake her. They had a search team organized and would be up in the mountains searching for Rebecca Marrow's body as soon as the sun peaked. Garcia agreed, but still woke up just as early, putting on a pot of coffee, and seeing JJ out the door.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" JJ asked, looking up to Emily's door as the alarm shut off, "I can call Hotch, I'm sure he'd understand."

"Nonsense," Garcia shook her head, "Hotch and the guys don't need to know about this. You go find that girl."

JJ nodded and was just stepping out the open door when a loud crash echoed down from the bedroom. She stopped in her tracks and turned, looking to Garcia with wide eyes.

"I got this Jayje," Garcia pushed her through the open door, "don't worry. Go do your job, we'll be fine."

"I'll call you later," JJ said, reluctantly pulling the door closed behind her.

Once JJ was gone, Garcia let her smile fall and secured the deadbolt of the door before turning to walk to the stairs to Emily's room. She took the stairs quietly, listening for any sounds from Emily's room above. She reached the top of the stairs and pressed her ear against the door. She grimaced at the muffled sounds of retching and the toilet flushing from the other side, and slowly pushed the door open. Sergio whipped his head around, slightly arching his back in surprise, until he realized who had entered and went back to sniffing at the broken lamp that had put him on edge. Garcia eyed the glass, careful not to step on any as she picked up Sergio and set him on Emily's rumpled bed.

"Emily?" she tapped her knuckles lightly against the unlatched bathroom door.

Hearing no answer from the other side, she slowly pushed the door open and frowned at the site in front of her. Emily was sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning back with her head resting on the edge of the bathtub. The hair that had come loose from her ponytail while she slept now stuck to her sweaty face and neck, and her skin had paled to an awful shade of green. She turned her head and opened her eyes to look at Garcia when she entered, unwilling to lift her head from the cool surface of the tub's ledge.

"You're still here?" Emily winced, embarrassed of her current situation.

"Jesus Em," Garcia said quietly, "Look at you. Of course I'm still here."

Emily had hoped Garcia and JJ had gotten tired and went home after she'd thrown her tantrum and went to bed, but deep down she knew that they'd still be there in the morning. They'd always been right there for her whenever she'd needed them, and she'd gone completely off the deep end. She cracked her eyes open, willing her head to stay completely still, as she watched Garcia step through the door, and grab the hand towel from the rack by the sink. She watched curiously, only half listening to Garcia talk as she soaked the towel under the faucet and wringed out the excess water. She stepped over Emily's legs and gently set the cool cloth over her forehead and lowered herself to sit next to her.

Emily let her eyes close as the cold material absorbed the heat from her head and pulled some of the throbbing pressure with it. She felt herself relax slightly with the urge to vomit not quite so strong, and she risked turning her head to look at her friend.

"Don't be nice to me Garcia," tears pricked her eyes as she spoke, "I was horrible last night. I deserve to be miserable, I don't deserve nice."

"I'll be nice if I want to," Garcia laughed, "as for the pukiness, yeah you kinda did that to yourself. But for the cause of all this; you don't deserve any of it Em."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Emily's mind was reeling with the events of the week, and she felt horrible for the way she'd responded. She'd compromised the case, and she'd turned on her friends when they'd only been trying to help. Now, here she was, half laying on the bathroom floor after an impressive amount of throwing up, and her friend was sitting right next to her, dabbing her head with a cool cloth and asking for nothing. Emily knew Garcia wanted to talk, yet she sat there quietly. How could she deny her anything now?

"I hit Sikes," Emily spoke quietly.

Garcia frowned as she stared down at her friend. Emily's eyes were still closed and she refused to move as she let down her protective shield to allow Garcia in.

"Why?"

Emily's head rocked on the edge of the tub as she shook it and shrugged, "I don't really know. Something in me just snapped, and I couldn't stop myself. Like last night. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"This isn't about Sikes," Garcia said, "you could deal with a low life like him in your sleep. This is about Lambert."

Emily winced at the very mention of his name, "It's not Lambert. It's me, not being able to control my emotions."

"That monster turned the last month and a half of our lives into a living hell," Garcia interrupted, "You're just getting back up on your feet, and he's back, trying to kick them out from under you. Of course it's gonna mess with your head. But you know what I love about you Super Special Agent Prentiss?"

Emily turned her head and squinted to look under the wet cloth at her friend, "What?"

"That you always get back up," Garcia smiled, "even on that mountain, hurt, and exhausted, you still beat him. You'll beat him again this time, of that I have no doubt."

Emily stared at Garcia for a few seconds, letting her words sink in. Suddenly her mind was clearer than it had been in a week, and everything that had seemed so overwhelming to her, now seemed petty and small. Lambert was taunting her, and she had done the one thing she knew she shouldn't have done; she'd let him get under her skin. She still felt guilt for the lives of the two women he'd killed, but Morgan and Hotch were right; he would have killed again regardless. Instead of reveling in her guilt, she should have been using it to fuel her need to stop him. Like Morgan, Garcia had given her a voice of reason, but it meant so much more coming from Garcia. The woman was not a profiler, and yet, she'd still seen straight through her and had given her exactly the words she needed to hear. Morgan had already told her that it wasn't her fault, but what she'd really needed to hear was that she wasn't defeated. She could beat him again.

"How do you always do that?" Emily smiled up at Garcia.

"Do what?"

"Know exactly what to say, at exactly the right time?"

Garcia smiled down at her, "It's a gift."

They shared a laugh before settling back into a comfortable silence, each of them thinking of what the next step would be. After a few minutes, Emily felt the stress on her body start to fade, and she finally felt like she would be able to sleep without nightmares intruding. She let her eyes close and relaxed further into her slouch until she felt Garcia standing up next to her.

Garcia felt more than saw Emily start to relax next to her, and she couldn't help but smile at their situation. She'd seen Emily's high school yearbook photo, and was sure that in her teens, Emily had slept on many of bathroom floors. But Emily wasn't a teen anymore, and the last thing she needed on top of her headaches was a stiff neck and back from falling asleep against the bathtub after puking her guts up.

"Oh no you don't Princess," Garcia stood and gave Emily's hand a tug, "you won't be able to walk if you fall asleep like that."

Emily laughed and let Garcia pull her up to her feet. Once upright, the pounding returned to her head in full force, and she had to brace a hand against the counter to keep from falling over. Garcia gave her only a few seconds before she was pulling her out the bathroom door and guiding her around broken lamp, before shoving her over to her bed. She fell into the cool caress of the sheets and pillows and grinned when Garcia retrieved Sergio and plopped down onto her back next to her.

"Thank you Garcia," Emily spoke quietly, reaching over and scratching the top of Sergio's head, making him purr.

"For what?"

"For being you."

"Oh," Garcia smiled, "I've got plenty of me. I don't mind sharing once in a while. Just don't make a habit of this serial killer stalker, drunken alter ego, and shattering of flatscreens thing. I don't think my heart could handle it."

"I really broke my TV?" Emily groaned.

"Hate to break it to you cupcake, but you committed a horrible act of digicide. The deceased is still flickering down in the living room if you don't believe me."

Emily grinned against her pillow, "oh well, it's not like a watched a lot of it anyway."

"So tell me one thing before you go passing out on me Em," Garcia paused until Emily's eyes opened and looked up at her curiously, "How good did it feel to smack the crap outta that creep Sikes?"

* * *

><p>It was still dark when JJ made it to the designated parking area at the mobile command that had been set up near the mountain trailhead. She covered a yawn with her hand and flashed her badge at the officer standing guard at the crime scene tape, placed to cut off public access to the trails. He lifted the tape with a quick nod, and she ducked under it to join Reid, who stood alone on the other side.<p>

"Hey Spence," she greeted as she approached.

"Morning JJ," Reid returned her greeting and turned his attention back to the tent, "they're in there trying to get organized."

Reid had immediately noticed the tired lines on JJ's face, suggesting she hadn't slept well. He too had had a hard time falling asleep after the events of the day before. He was worried about Emily, and he knew that JJ probably was also feeling the strain at the loss of their friend on the team.

"It just doesn't feel right without her, does it?" Reid said quietly.

JJ didn't have to ask to know that he was referring to Emily. She responded with a nod. She didn't have the words to ease his worry. She wanted to assure him that Emily was fine, and that she'd be back after she'd gotten some rest, but after witnessing her brief lapse of sanity, JJ wasn't sure she could believe her own words.

"We just got her back," Reid continued, "and now she's gone again."

"She's not gone Spence, she's just not here," JJ replied, "She just needs some time to work through some things. Let's just focus on finding Rebecca so we can catch Lambert and end this."

Reid nodded and gave her a small smile, "Cassi is getting her gear together and then they'll brief us on how exactly she plans to do this."

"Why aren't they just using the recovery dogs?" JJ frowned, "I saw one back there."

"Hotch doesn't want to destroy any evidence if we can help it. We've already got an expert tracker and recovery specialist, why not use her?" Reid shrugged, "The dogs are just here as a backup plan in case she can't find anything."

JJ shrugged with a sigh. She was tired, and the prospect of trekking through the forest after Ben Lambert's trail, yet again, did nothing to brighten her mood. At least this time she knew her team was safe, and the weather report claimed they were in for a warm sunny day. Despite her irritation at the situation, she couldn't help but be intrigued and eager to watch Cassi work. Hopefully she could live up to her reputation, and they would be off the mountain by nightfall.

A bustle of motion from the tent caught their attention as Hotch stepped out and waved them in. Once inside they joined the rest of the team around a foldout table in the center, where Cassi had spread out a large area map. Cassi stood hunched over the table and was scribbling a note on the map and glanced up at them, before turning her attention to Hotch. He gave her a curt nod of approval to take over the briefing and she snapped the cap back on the highlighter before standing up to address them.

"Okay guys," Cassi started, pointing to the map, "Rebecca's roommate told us that the Broken Arrow Summit trail was her favorite trail on the mountain, and that she thought it was the trail they they'd planned to take yesterday. That trail branches off from the Arrowhead trail here."

Cassi traced a red highlighted line with her finger, showing them the area she was referring to as she spoke.

"Once we get up to the actual trailhead, I'm going to do a quick follow up search and hopefully narrow down some of the tracks to match Lamert and Rebecca. He's a big guy, so I'm hoping there aren't many possible sets. However, it's a public hiking trail, so it's possible that we'll have a mess of prints to weed through. Once I find a solid spore, I want us to take just a simple extended line formation."

"Um, sorry," JJ raised her hand slightly to stop Cassi's instruction, "what's a solid spore?"

"Right, sorry. A spore is basically any signs left behind that I can track. Footprints, broken foliage, candy bar wrappers; anything I can follow is a spore."

JJ nodded and Cassi pointed to each of them and scribbled a quick drawing of the formation on the table's surface with her marker.

"Hotch, if you don't mind, I want you here running the command post and relaying information to the search team. Dave, if you'd be the control man of the team, with Reid running navigation. Mainly you just need to keep eyes on everyone and relay information back to Hotch. Spencer, I've already programmed a few points of interest into the GPS and it will alert you when we're coming up on them. If the tracks start leading away from where the GPS is telling us to go, you may have to do some recalculations and relay them back to Dave."

Reid took the bulky GPS unit from Cassi's hand and frowned at it. He knew how to use the machine to an extent, but he preferred a good old fashioned map. Maps didn't need reprogramming and they never failed from lack of battery life. Regardless, he nodded his understanding and tucked the unit into his pack.

"JJ, you'll take up my right flank, and Derek my left. I'll need you to keep your eyes open for any terrain changes and any possible evidence. If my tracks go out ahead of me and then loop back around, you may encounter them way before I track them there. Be careful not to step on them. If you spot anything, relay it to Dave and I'll mark my spore until I can verify yours. My full attention is gonna be on the ground right in front of me, so you're job is to keep your eyes out for everything else."

Cassi emphasized her instructions with solid eye contact and waited until they gave her a nod before giving the next assignment. They were not used to taking assignments from civilians, but Hotch had said nothing, giving the impression that Cassi was the boss on this assignment. The concept seemed simple enough, and the search team would be following a short distance behind them. They'd all been trained in forensics and crime scene preservation, but on most occasions, the crime scene was discovered and reported by someone else. Having to search for a crime scene that they knew nothing about was not a common occurance.

"I'm ready when you are," Cassi directed to Hotch, "sun should be up by the time we get up to the trailhead."

* * *

><p>Cassi's prediction had been right. The sun was just beginning to peek over the tops of the trees when they arrived at the trailhead. She stopped walking and slung her pack around on her shoulders to dig into the front zipper pocket. She pulled her fisted hand from its depths and held it out in front of her.<p>

"Take two and wrap them around your shoes," she instructed, opening her hand.

"Rubber bands?" Reid pulled two of the elastic bands from her palm curiously.

"It's the easiest way to make team prints quickly identifiable in the chance we accidently cross paths or have to backtrack to recover the trail if I lose it."

They followed her instructions and wrapped the bands over the tops of their shoes and watched her step a few feet up the trail. She crouched down onto her heels and eyed the soft dirt, occasionally poking a finger at it, then standing and taking a few paces before repeating the action.

"How tall is Lambert?" she called back over her shoulder after a few minutes.

"Six foot three," Rossi answered, "about two fifty."

"I think I might have him here, but he's lost a few pounds," Cassi pivoted on her heels and pulled a measuring tape from the cargo pocket of her pants and set it on the ground. "Height is consistent, but looks more like two-twenty. Hey JJ, can I borrow you for a second?"

JJ was careful not to disturb any of the prints near the spot where Cassi was crouching as she stepped up behind her.

"You're what, five five, one-twenty?" Cassi asked, eyeing her.

"One-eighteen," JJ corrected with a grin.

"Step right here."

Cassi point to a spot in a spot in the dirt and JJ carefully pressed her foot into the soft dirt. She quickly stepped back, leaving behind a perfect indent of her size 7 hiking boot, complete with rubber band tread.

"Perfect, thanks," Cassi turned and called over her shoulder, "I got 'em."

Rossi, Morgan and Reid closed the gap to join the two women. Cassie pointed down at a small, half trampled dip in the dirt.

"This has to be him," Cassi explained, "there's only one other set of tread patterns in the right size that I can see, but these ones have company," she pointed to a smaller mark, "Similar height and weight to JJ. Pretty sure they belong to Rebecca."

"How do you know?" Reid asked curiously, "there's like a dozen different sets of prints all over here."

"It rained a few days ago, which made the ground soft," Cassi stood and stuck the measuring tape back into her pocket, "as it starts to dry, the edges of the prints will harden, but in these prints, the dirt was already drying before it was stepped on, which gave me an idea of the time the print was made. Lambert is a big guy, so his prints stand out. I just had to find a set that matched Rebecca, made about the same time."

"So we just follow the trail until we find where they left it?"

"That's it," Cassi shrugged.

With Cassi leading the way, they began the uphill hike, each of them hoping they would be bringing Rebecca down with them.

* * *

><p>Garcia peered into the brightly lit insides of Emily's refrigerator and shook her head at the insane lack of supplies it held. She reached in and pushed aside the takeout containers from the night before, and searched something that would be lighter on the stomach than left over pasta. She felt a light brush against her leg and looked down as Sergio head butted her ankle and ran his side along her calf with a meow.<p>

"Your mom seriously needs to go grocery shopping," she said to the cat, "are you hungry too?"

Sergio meowed again and Garcia shut the refrigerator to search the cabinets. In the lower cabinet of the island, she found stacks of three flavors of canned cat food and laughed.

"Why do you have an all you can eat buffet while the fridge is completely empty?" Garcia grumbled, "Spoilt cat."

She quickly opened a can and dumped its contents into a bowl she pulled from the cabinet and Sergio sniffed at it and looked up at her as if asking where his bowl was. She shook her head and returned to the refrigerator and retrieved a half empty bag of lunch meat from a drawer. She quickly slopped together two sandwiches and carried them upstairs to Emily's room.

Emily was still stretched out, flat on her back, in the exact position she had been in when Garcia had left her sleeping nearly four hours ago. She walked around the other side of the bed and sat down, setting the sandwiches on the nightstand. The moment the mattress shifted under her weight, Emily's eyes were open and staring up at her in a daze.

"Sorry," Garcia whispered, "I was bored and since you killed the TV downstairs, I was gonna use this one. I want to see if the news caught on to the team yet."

Emily blinked at her and inhaled a deep breath, turning her head into her pillow, "I'm sure they have," she croaked out, "what time is it?"

"Almost noon, sister sleepy head," Garcia smiled, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," she ran her hand over her face and winced at the pain in her head, "have you heard anything from the team?"

Garcia shook her head no, "I made you a sandwich. You have no food by the way."

Emily propped herself up against the headboard and took the sandwich that Garcia handed her. She glared at it for a moment trying to decide if her stomach would keep it down if she ate it. She took a tentative bite and set it down on the nightstand. Garcia laughed and nudged her, handing her a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol she'd retrieved from her purse. Emily smiled her thanks and Garcia clicked the TV on with the volume low while she ate her sandwich.

It didn't take long to find a live news station with the running headline of the FBI's involvement in a body recovery effort in the national forest. The screen showed various officers and park rangers milling around the mobile command tent while a report spoke, but the team was nowhere to be seen. They assumed the team to be halfway up the mountain by now, until they caught site of Hotch walking between the SUV and the command tent.

"Why isn't Hotch up with the team?" Garcia asked.

Emily's eyebrows furrowed in thought, "looks like he's running the command post. Maybe Rossi's running the team. Why are they running this live? It's gonna take them all day to find Rebecca."

"You know how they get," Garcia shrugged, "All fighting for that golden shot of the recovery team after finding…" Garcia paused, unsure of her words, "what they were looking for."

"Lambert's gonna see this," Emily said flatly, "if he didn't already know about Cassi, he does now."

Garcia's appetite vanished at Emily's solemn words. There was no way Cassi was coming off of that mountain without at least one camera catching a shot of her. They would most likely even cover her identity in their segment, excited by the idea of the FBI using an outside consultant.

* * *

><p>"Looks like they stopped here," Cassi called over her shoulder to Rossi.<p>

Rossi let out a shrill whistle to catch JJ and Morgan's attention since they had flanked out too far to hear Cassi's comment. Both of their heads whirled around to look at him, and he held his hand up, signaling for them to stop moving and wait. After making sure both of the Agents had understood, he turned his attention back to Cassi, who now crouched down, peering at the dirt.

"Looks like Rebecca kneeled down here to get something out of her pack," Cassi pointed to some deep dips in the dirt, then scanned the whole area before smiling, "bingo."

"What is it?" Rossi crouched down next to her.

"Look at the plants there," she pointed out to her left and Rossi eyed the large green ferns at the base of a large pine tree and shrugged. She sighed and explained, "The pigmenting in plants is darker on the tops because that's where the sun hits, sorta like a tan on your skin. When someone walks through and disrupts it, parts of the plant will get turned over or broken off. You can see a few parts of that fern that are lighter than the rest. That's because something or someone walked by and disrupted it recently.'

She quickly paced the short distance to the fern and crouched back down to get a closer look. She frowned and turned back to Rossi, "I've got their prints, but Rebecca is still leading the way. Why would she be leading him off the trail?"

"Maybe he forced her to walk in front of him," Reid offered, stepping up behind Rossi.

Cassi looked back at the tracks and shook her head, "no, I don't think so. If he was forcing her to walk, there would be signs of hesitation in her steps. They'd be closer together and have scuffs and shuffles. These are long confident strides."

"Her roommate said that she was really familiar with this mountain," Reid said, "maybe she has a special spot that she likes to go?"

Rossi thought for a minute before clicking down on his radio to the command tent. Hotch answered immediately.

"Hotch, we found where they left the trail. We're about two and a half miles up. Call Rebecca's roommate back and see if she knows of any particular place up here that Rebecca liked to go. Specifically a place that isn't on a trail."

Hotch quickly transmitted back his acceptance to the request and Rossi nodded down to Cassi. Just as Cassi stood to continue following the footprints, JJ's voice crackled over the radio.

"Guys, I think I have something."

Rossi and Cassi spun to face the blond in the distance as she spoke. She waved her hand over at them to emphasize her comment.

"Mark that print by the plant for me will ya?" Cassi said, walking past him quickly toward JJ.

Once Cassi was close enough to hear her, JJ pointed down at the perfect shoe print in the semi wet dirt near her feet.

"That's a big print," JJ said, "Is that him?"

"Sure is," Cassi smiled at her, "Tell Rossi you found his exit. We have two trails to follow now." Cassi's smile fell at her sudden realization, "Also confirm that Lambert was alone when he left."

After JJ made the radio call, they regrouped and Cassi took the GPS from Reid. She quickly programmed the two locations into its memory and canceled out two of the former points of interest.

"So Lambert came back the same direction that he went in," Cassi thought aloud to the group, "We can probably track both trails at the same time and still keep in eye contact. JJ, you and Spencer go ahead and take his exit trail. I'm gonna stay on the other trail and see if I can figure out when things changed for the girl. Derek, you're with me, and Dave, just try and keep eyes on everyone."

They nodded their understanding of their new assignments and Rossi quickly relayed their find back to Hotch. Hotch returned the information that Rebecca's roommate hadn't known of anything about a particular spot that her friend liked to go. They were back to only the tracks to go on.

They had been hiking for nearly three more hours when Rossi started noticing the gap between them spreading. Cassi and Morgan were little more than colored dots in the distance, while JJ and Reid were only a short distance behind him. They had lost their exit trail twice already, and the second time had taken them nearly fifteen minutes to find it again. JJ was doing her best to follow the tracks, while Reid rambled on about the mathematical equations he'd used to calculate the distance between footsteps that a man of Lambert's size would take. JJ would have snapped at him to shut up if his calculations hadn't, in fact, resulted in them finding the trail again.

"Reid, please," she grumbled finally, shushing him, "I don't understand half of what you're saying, and it's really distracting. You know I love that brain of yours, but could you please keep it in your brain for awhile?"

Reid gave her a sheepish smile and apologized. He'd let his excitement of learning the new skill of tracking get the better of him. Rossi watched the transaction between the two and smirked, shaking his head. He turned away from them and had to scan the area in front of him twice before finally catching a glimpse of the bright yellow lettering on Morgan's windbreaker in the distance. He looked back to JJ and Reid, who were just beginning to move forward again, back on track, and let out a sigh.

"Morgan?" Rossi spoke into his radio. He waited for Morgan to answer before speaking again, "We're falling behind back here, are you guys alright to keep going until the trail loops around?"

There was a pause and Rossi could barely make out Morgan tapping Cassi on the shoulder and talking to her for a second.

"Yeah, we're good," Morgan's voice came back, "Cassi says just to keep your eyes open and radio in if you find anything else."

"You got it," Rossi answered, "Good luck."

* * *

><p>Back at the mobile command post, Hotch was pacing in front of the foldout table, eyeing the map. He'd heard the transmission between Rossi and Morgan, and was a little uncomfortable about them splitting up. He didn't think that there was any threat to his team, but he didn't like Morgan being alone, with only a civilian as backup if something happened. He had thoroughly read up on Cassi, and knew from her background and training with her hardened military father that the woman was more than capable in handling herself, but he still couldn't help the nagging in his gut that something was off.<p>

He looked down at his watch and sighed. They had been on the mountain for nearly six hours and had yet to find Rebecca's body. He glared down at the map and noted that Morgan and Cassi's last reported location was closing in on the red highlighted circle on the paper. Soon they would be at the river and hopefully looping back around to rejoin the rest of the team. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he was slightly surprised to see Emily's number across the display screen.

"Prentiss?" he answered, "are you alright?"

He winced immediately as the words left his mouth. He hoped she wouldn't take the question as him doubting her. Her temporary silence on the other end made him nervous. Had he offended her again?

"Yeah, Hotch, I'm fine," her voice sounded tired, "I just thought you should know, the media's running a live feed from the command post."

"It's live?" he scowled, and poked his head out of the tent to look at the news crews gathered behind the police tape, "why?"

"It's an FBI organized search for a body in a national park," Emily replied, "they all probably want that shot of the search party carrying the victim down the mountain, bragging about the success of the search."

Hotch nodded, not so much in agreement to her comment, but in the way she had said it. When he'd last seen her yesterday, she had a fire of emotions burning in her eyes and was trembling while she bit back words he knew she wanted to throw at him. Now, however tired she sounded, her voice was flat and even, and she'd used the words _body_ and _victim_. Whatever had happened overnight, she'd somehow re-distanced herself from the case, whether she realized it or not.

"But that's not why I'm calling," her voice pulled him from his thoughts, "they already know about Cassi, Hotch. They're gonna want to talk to her."

"JJ is up here Prentiss," he answered, "she can handle the press."

"Not my point," Emily sounded frustrated, "Cassi's gonna be a known face now, Hotch. The more you try and hide her from the camera, the more appealing she's going to look to him."

Hotch knew immediately to who she was referring. Lambert would definitely be watching from wherever he was. He was an egocentric, power-hungry, alpha male. There was no way he would be able to kill a woman, taunt the FBI with her picture, and not watch the entire search and recovery on the news. He'd most likely already gotten a glimpse or two of Cassi walking around the command post before they'd set off up the mountain. If they tried to shield her from the cameras or refuse to let them talk to her, Lambert would just be more drawn to her. They might as well serve her up on a silver platter.

"I have to let her talk to the reporters," he with a sigh.

"You have to make her look as far from me as possible," Emily's voice was quiet again, "if he doesn't see any similarities, he loses his edge. I'm sure you can come up with something and JJ can coach her through it."

"I'll call Strauss and clear an interview. Thanks for the heads up," he paused for a moment, thinking before hanging up, "and Prentiss, welcome back."

"Welcome back?"

"Whatever happened last night; you sound like you again," he grinned slightly, "we're gonna need you, but I need to know that you can handle it. We can't afford a repeat of yesterday."

"Hotch, I can't ask you to take me back after yesterday," she cleared her throat, "I'm too deep in this one."

Hotch nodded, "Exactly. Now that you've accepted that, are you ready to face it?"

He listened to the silence on the other end for a few seconds while she thought. He'd put her on the spot.

"I already have," she answered finally; "I want to stop him, Hotch, before he hurts anyone else."

"Good. Get some rest and I'll see you in the office tomorrow," he grinned again, "and tell Garcia she's on the clock, so she better set up her laptop."

Emily was silent as his words sunk in and slowly understood what he'd done. He had been the only one who'd witnessed her break in the interrogation room. Now that her head wasn't foggy from the alcohol, she registered her friend's behavior as they'd blown into her apartment with bags of takeout. Garcia had been ready for an intervention of sorts. They had been prepared, and Emily had been too drunk to realize it.

"You sent them here didn't you," she stated more than questioned.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Thank you Hotch."

"I'll see you tomorrow Prentiss."

* * *

><p>Morgan could hear the bubbling of the river nearby, and in the distance he could just make out a small waterfall between the trees. He was just thinking that they had to be getting close when Cassi stopped so abruptly that he'd nearly run into her back.<p>

"Derek, look," she pointed a few feet ahead of her.

Morgan followed her line of sight and even though he hadn't seen half of the things she'd been following for the last two hours, he definitely could see the mess of the soil in front of her finger. The leaves and undergrowth had been upturned with clumps of dirt rutted out in places. He carefully stepped closer and immediately caught sight of the dark brown liquid spatter across a nearby plant.

"I've got blood," he said aloud, but she was already moving around him.

"That's not her knee print," Cassi said, crouching next to him, "it's too deep, he fell."

"You think she fought back?"

"I know she fought back," Cassi shook her head, "Look at this mess. They struggled, someone got hurt, and she ran."

Cassi stood and quickly followed the short distance of footprints until she discovered another patch of rutted up plants near the water's edge.

"Shit, they went in the water," she swore, "I can't track in the water."

"But we knew she was in the water from the photo," Morgan reminded her, "and we have his exit trail, so he didn't go very far with her."

"Then where's the body?"

Cassi propped her hands on her hips and spun, eyes soaking in every detail of their surroundings. She had found the scene of the murder, but something wasn't right. Normally she could read a scene like a book. Every set of prints were like sentences forming the paragraphs and telling her their story. But there was something missing from this scene. Morgan was watching her, and she could tell he was steadying her behavior. She shook her head at him with a grimace and shrugged. He looked away and moved off to call Rossi on the radio. She listened to him relaying information back even as she could see Rossi, JJ, and Reid only a couple hundred yards away from them, still on Lambert's exit trail.

Cassi walked the short distance of the crime scene carefully, trying to ease the discomfort in her gut. Just as she was stepping up onto a large rock, a glimmer of something in the sun flashed in her peripherals. She stopped and spun, moving slowly backwards until the glare flashed again from beneath the water's surface. She dropped to her haunches above the item that had gleamed and called back over her shoulder to Morgan.

"I've got a knife," she shouted and plucked the twelve inch hunting knife from the bubbling river's edge.

Cassi wasn't afraid of compromising fingerprints on the blade since it had been under quickly moving water, as she pulled it from the river. She lifted it and waved it at Morgan as he joined her. He took the knife from her hand and eyed it with a scowl.

"Where the hell is the body?" he grumbled.

She shrugged and stood, "I'm gonna climb up on those boulders over there. Maybe if I get a little higher I'll see something I missed."

Morgan pulled a thick evidence bag from his pack, and wrapped the knife securely in it while Cassi moved off a large group of boulders to their right. Once she'd pulled herself up on top of the highest boulder, Cassi shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the area below. She could clearly see the print trail they had followed in, as well as the upset sections of ground from the scuffles. A slight discoloration on a tree next to her caught her attention and she ran her hand over the broken bark which had revealed the lighter underside of the tree's trunk. The unease in her stomach grew as her mind fought for an explanation. She caught movement to her right as JJ, Reid and Rossi emerged from a group of small trees. They were so close enough that she could almost make out Reid's quick lesson about the patch of poison oak that they had encountered a few yards away.

Cassi's mind reeled as it swam through all of the cases she'd worked in fugitive recoveries around the world. Her instincts were screaming at her to remember something important. She eyed the fractured tree limb again, and closed her eyes, willing the memory to come back. Suddenly it hit her; it was a snare. She'd worked a case in Alaska in which their fugitive had set snare traps in order to stall and hurt the team tracking him. Cassi herself had ended up with two broken ribs from the force of the tree limb colliding with her chest when she'd tripped one of the snares.

Her eyes shot open and she shielded her eyes from the sun, scanning the tall pines. A small patch of pink, high in one of the trees burst out at her now sharp eyes and she immediately recognized the material. Before she could fully trace the line of the suspended figure to the tree it was attached to, JJ, Reid, and Rossi were walking up on it, oblivious to its presence over their heads.

Morgan was just relaying what they'd discovered back to Hotch when Cassi all but flew off the rocks she'd been standing on and shot passed him at a sprint, with no consideration for the crime scene.

"Don't move!" she yelled at him as she passed.

"What?" he shouted after her, "What is it?"

Cassi ignored him, and sprinted down the path she now knew Lambert had taken. Her trained eyes spotted a thin thread of wire stretched tight on the ground in front of her, and easily stepped over it as she ran. Reid's light brown jacket peeked around the edge of a bush in front of her and she yelled out for him not to move.

Reid had just finished telling JJ how to treat the poison oak rash she would most likely have from tromping through the plant when Cassi's shrill voice echoed from somewhere nearby. All three of their heads whipped up at the sound and Cassi shot around a tree in front of them. Reid felt his foot catch on something unseen and in an instant he heard a loud crack of wood next to him.

Before anyone could comprehend what had happened, Cassi was colliding with both JJ and Reid in a bone rattling shoulder hit. Rossi watched wide eyed from his position a few feet behind them as they disappeared into a small ditch in a tangle of limbs just as Morgan's voice broke through the radio earpiece warning them that Cassi was coming. In the same instant, Rossi heard something wiz by his ear and dropped down onto his stomach and covered his head. He heard a rapid sequence of thumps into a tree a few feet ahead of him and risked lifting his head to see what had happened. Four short shaft metal arrows protruded from a tree only a few feet away, and other six or seven from various other surfaces within their vicinity.

Morgan's voice echoed out and Rossi could make out jogging footsteps coming from the same direction that Cassi had come from. Cassi was just pulling herself up from the ditch when Morgan rounded the corner at a jog. Cassi tried to stop him again, but only resulted in pointing up above his head as she coughed against the air that had been pushed from her lungs in the tumble. Morgan spotted her movement a second too late as he found himself tripping over an invisible wire and falling. He landed hard on his back and his eyes immediately found what Cassi had been pointing at.

Rebecca Marrow's limp body was suspended from her foot high up in the thick pines and now dangled precariously above where Morgan lay. A loud cracking sound followed his fall, and his eyes went wide as the woman's body dropped. He rolled to his left, barely avoiding being pummeled by the weight of the falling body as it smashed through the thin pine branches and crashed into the dirt.

Nobody moved as a silence took over the forest. Not even the birds dared to make a sound. After a few seconds, Cassi pushed herself up to her knees and scanned the area for other nearby trip wires. Not finding any, she turned and extended her hand down to help Reid and JJ from the ditch. They crawled slowly up the ledge until they were kneeling next to her.

"Everyone alright?" Cassi finally found the air to speak.

Morgan blinked at the ground in front of his face in shock before quickly pushing himself up and away from the broken body next to him. Rossi took a quick inventory of himself, and other than being very dirty and confused as hell, he was alright.

"What the hell?" Morgan shouted.

"He set a trap for us," Cassi answered flatly, standing.

"No shit," Morgan was furious. His entire team had almost been wiped out in a blink of an eye, and none of them had even seen it coming. None of them but Cassi, "How did you know?" his voice lowered.

Cassi shrugged and winced at the pain in her shoulder, "I've seen it before."

"And you couldn't have warned us back down during the briefing?"

"I didn't know Lambert was gonna do this!" her voice rose to meet his, "why the hell would someone booby trap a dead body?"

"Because he knew it would be us to come looking for her," Rossi answered.

Hotch's voice squawked loudly over their combined radios, interrupting them and giving them a few seconds to catch their breaths while Rossi answered him.

"Jesus Dave, is everyone alright," Hotch asked, "Morgan was talking and then there was shouting. What happened?"

"Lambert set traps up here Hotch," Rossi answerd, "We're all alright and we found Rebecca. Send up the recovery team to pack out the body. We'll do a sweep and make sure there aren't any more of these traps."

"Ok, be careful. Hand the radio to JJ and Cassi," Hotch instructed.

Rossi waved the women over and handed JJ the radio while he walked away to help Morgan look over the body, and begin a sweep for any other traps.

"Yeah Hotch, go ahead," JJ cleared her throat into the radio.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just got the wind knocked out of me," JJ grinned at Cassi, who mouthed a silent apology, "Whats up?"

"The media down here is having a field day with this. They've been streaming everything live all day. I need you to prepare something for them when you get back down here."

"Okay, do you want me to identify Lambert as her killer?"

"No, I don't want him to get any recognition for this, not yet. He's going to be watching, and he'll expect a show, especially if he set traps. I want Cassi to give them an interview."

Cassi's eyebrows went to her forehead and she shook her head, "Why?"

"Listen Cassi, Lambert is going to be watching. He's probably already seen you, and connected you to the case through the live feed. He's after women that remind him of Prentiss. We need him to see you as least threatening and as unlike Emily as possible. I need you to appear nervous and uninterested. He's turned on by confident and challenging women. If you appear weak and unsure, he'll look right passed you. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, weak and nervous, I can do that."

"Good, JJ will walk you through how to answer the questions. You'll do fine. I'll see you in a few hours. Be careful."

* * *

><p>It didn't take them nearly as long to get back down the mountain as it had taken them to get up. The immediate shouting from the reporters as they broke through the tree line alerted Hotch to the arrival of his team. JJ broke away from the rest of the team and moved toward the crowd. She had taken a few minutes to clean herself up before they reached the public view and she hoped it would be enough to avoid any questions that would lead to her having to explain the trap they'd walked into.<p>

"I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. I can take your questions," she spoke as she stepped in front of the cameras.

"Agent Jareau, what is the FBI's connection to this death?" a blonde reporter shouted, shooting her hand up before the others had a chance.

"We believe the man responsible is related to an open federal investigation. Unfortunately, I can't release any information pertaining to that case, but I can tell you that we have recovered the victim's body, and will be bringing her home to her family."

"Is it true your team is using an outside consultant in your investigation?" another reporter shouted and shoved a microphone in JJ's direction.

"That's correct," JJ answered, "We have brought in a recovery specialist to assist with our search. She's prepared to speak with you as soon as she's completed her briefing with the rest of the team."

The reporters seemed satisfied with the promise of an interview with Cassi and JJ moved forward with the speech she had prepared on her way down the mountain.

While JJ spoke with the media, the rest of the team gathered around the folding table inside the command tent.

"What happened?" Hotch asked, eyeing their new assortment of scrapes and bruises.

"Son of a bitch tried to kill us," Morgan pulled a bagged arrow from his pack and set it on the table, "There are about a dozen of these up there."

"How?" Hotch picked up the arrow and turned it over in his hands.

"He set trip wires behind him," Cassi answered, "They're crossbow arrows; short stalks, lightweight, and easy to pack. The body was suspended in a snare trap in the trees, and rigged to drop when the wire was tripped. If we'd followed his path directly instead of from both ends at the same time, the surprise of a falling body was supposed to surprise us right into the secondary trip wire that released arrows."

"He planned to take out the search team," Hotch scowled and set the arrow down.

"He's definitely making a statement," she answered flatly.

"He's telling us that he's not afraid of us," Morgan said through clenched teeth, "He doesn't care if he killed any of us. It's just a big game to him."

"Why would he risk killing Emily with an arrow?" Reid though aloud, "It doesn't make any sense."

"Easiest way to do it now that Hotch put Agents at her house all the time?" Cassi guessed, getting sucked into their profiling theories.

"He's right," Rossi shook his head, "It's too impersonal. He's been escalating too much to let her die somewhere that he couldn't watch. He knew she wasn't gonna be here."

"He's still watching her," Reid agreed, "He would have known you wouldn't let her stay on this case. He wanted to kill us to get to her."

"Jesus Hotch," Morgan said, "He knows exactly how to get to her. You know she would never forgive herself if anything had happened to any of us. We have to get his focus off of her somehow."

"I spoke with Prentiss and she'll be back in tomorrow. We'll regroup and decide what further actions to take once we've gotten a chance to process all of this," Hotch said, "She's still under twenty-four hour surveillance, and she knows he's watching her. She's being careful."

Their conversation was interrupted by JJ entering the tent.

"I forgot how much being on a live report sucks," she groaned, "They're ready whenever you are Cass."

Cassi looked to Hotch, who quickly straightened his tie and led her out of the tent. She walked confidently toward the cameras, before reminding herself that she was supposed to appear nervous. She slowed her pace and tensed her shoulders. She knew what she was supposed to do, but her brain screamed at her to do the opposite. The reporters already knew her name. All Lambert had to do was search her name on the internet and he'd easily find other interviews she'd done on other searches. The act was only a temporary shield and Morgan's words were still ringing in her ears. They needed to get his focus off of Emily.

Hotch introduced her to the media, and stepped off to her left side. The question started almost instantly, and she did her best to decipher what was being yelled. Under normal circumstances, she would have simply glared at them until they took the hint that she wouldn't speak until they found order, but these weren't normal circumstances. To do that would portray confidence, and even a challenging side to her. So instead, she stuttered and spoke quietly until Hotch stepped in and shushed them with a scowl, and selected one reporter to begin.

"Ms. Maddox, what is your role with the FBI in this investigation?" the blonde reporter asked, "Have you consulted with the BAU before?"

Cassi made a show of looking to Hotch for permission to answer before speaking. He gave her a reassuring smile and nodded in a performance of his own.

"I'm here only as a civilian consultant at the request of the FBI to assist in the recovery of Rebecca's body. This is the first time I've worked with this particular unit," she answered methodically.

"How was the body discovered?" the next reporter asked, "Do you know the cause of death?"

"Our office received an anonymous report late yesterday afternoon," Hotch stepped in, "Ms. Maddox was hired to assist us in the search so we could preserve as much evidence as possible. We won't know the exact cause of death until the Medical Examiner has released it."

"How did you find the body?"

"With the help of the BAU's Doctor Reid, we were able to narrow down the search area to smaller geographical area in which we believed Rebecca's killer may have left her body." Cassi answered, "Once up there, we were able to uncover evidence that led us to her."

Cassi rattled on her robotic answers to their questions and found herself bored with her own answers. Hotch looked pleased by her performance. Little did he know that it was killing her inside to play into this ridiculous game. Lambert had nearly killed them all, and she was furious. Her shoulder and left hip were throbbing from their covered injuries she'd taken in her dive into the ditch. She could only imagine what JJ and Reid were feeling. She'd been braced for the impact, where they hadn't seen it coming.

Cassi continued speaking, even though her thoughts were wandering. Lambert had made Emily's life hell and now he was forcing them all into playing by his rules. How could Hotch appear so calm by it when she was fuming? In the short amount of time she'd known this group, she'd grown fond of them; especially Garcia. These people were Penelope's family, and she'd nearly watched them all die a painfully. Her mind was reeling with Morgan's words. _We need to get his focus off of Emily_. Suddenly an idea struck her, and she stumbled over the words she'd be spouting to the reporters.

She felt a nudge on her elbow and blinked over at Hotch. She realized she'd gone completely quiet while deep in thought, and everyone was staring at her, waiting for an answer to a question she hadn't heard.

"I'm sorry," she cleared her throat, "Can you repeat your question?"

"I asked if you had anything else to add for our viewers. Is there a tip line that they can call?"

Cassi swallowed the lump in her throat as the opportunity presented itself to fulfill the promise she'd made to Garcia. _I'll find him Penelope. I promise._ She sent a quick apologetic glance to Hotch, whose face fell. She was about to do something incredibly stupid, and he knew it. Before he could react, she stood straighter, turned and glared directly into the camera lens and spoke as crisp and clearly as possible.

"I do have something to add. You want a challenge Ben? Here I am, come and get me. I dare you."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Oh no, Cassi threw herself to the wolf! I really hope it worth the wait! Things are going to get a little more fast paced and expect a lot more action. Click that button and let me know what you think! Thanks for sticking with me, even when I made you wait for so long.<em>


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: And we're back! Just as a friendly reminder, I don't write pairings. This chapter is a little slow, but it's building up for the next one, which will be a blast! Think of this as the up part of the roller coaster, clunking away until I drop you over the edge lol. Hope you like it anyway. Read on!_

* * *

><p>"I do have something to add. You want a challenge Ben? Here I am, come and get me. I dare you."<p>

Hotch's breath caught in his chest the moment Cassi had started to speak. The apologetic look she'd given him had told him everything. She was going to do something that she knew he wasn't going to approve of. She was correct. He definitely did not approve. The moment the words had left her lips, he wanted to push her away from the cameras. Instead, he stood completely still, trying to figure out how to react as her eyes bore into the camera lens ahead. Before he could respond, Cassi turned on her heels and walked away, leaving Hotch dumbfounded. The reporters erupted into a flurry of activity as they hollered out new questions, and shoved microphones into Hotch's face.

"We have no further comments," Hotch stated. He motioned for the officers at the barricade to take control over the scene, before following Cassi up toward the tent.

The rest of the team was sitting inside the tent cleaning up and already running ideas by each other when the crowd outside burst with sounds of excitement. JJ turned her head to the sound as if she could see through the side of the tent, and then looked back to her friends.

"That doesn't sound good," she said quietly.

Cassi cut off their conversation as she stormed into the tent, with Hotch hot on her heels. Once she was safe from the view of the cameras, her shoulders slumped and she turned to face him. They ignored the watchful eyes of the team as Cassi tried to explain herself.

"I'm sorry Hotch," she said quickly, "I had to do it. It's the best plan we've got."

"That wasn't a plan, Cassi," Hotch replied.

"What happened?" Rossi asked, standing.

Cassi and Hotch stayed silent, staring at each other in a silent battle. After a few seconds, Hotch let out a deep sigh and crossed his arms over his chest, turning away from her to address his team.

"We need a new plan. We may have gotten Lambert's focus off of Prentiss for awhile, but we've got a new problem."

"What?" Morgan asked, "What happened?"

Hotch looked to Cassi, giving her the opportunity to explain herself to them. He wasn't sure what had been going through her head when she'd thrown herself to the wolves, but he needed to know what she planned to do now that she had.

"I set a trap of my own," she cleared her throat, "Hopefully Lambert will take the bait."

"What kind of trap?" Reid asked.

"Hopefully I've given him a challenge he can't resist." Cassi braced herself for the reaction of the rest of the team, "He'll leave Emily alone if he's focused on me."

"What?" JJ gasped, "You baited him?"

"He was gonna find out who I am eventually." Cassi shrugged, "Might as well be prepared for him."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" JJ scolded.

"I trust you guys not to let anything happen to me," she grinned, "I'm not afraid of Lambert."

Hotch's phone ringing in his pocket pulled their attention momentarily. All conversations stopped as he dug it from his jacket pocket and looked down at it. He frowned at the display, wincing as he read the name of the caller.

"Chief Strauss," he answered it, "Yes ma'am, I'm aware the report was live. No ma'am. Yes, I know. Yes ma'am."

The team listened to Hotch speak into his phone, and Cassi took the distraction to escape to the back of the tent. She knew they would be angry with her. What she'd done was dangerous, and they were already on edge. But she'd been hired to help stop Lambert. The first opportunity she'd had to do just that had presented itself, so she'd taken it. She just hoped that Lambert took the bait. She pulled her pack across the floor to rest between her feet, and dug through it for a water bottle. She couldn't remember the last time her throat felt so dry, and she doubted it had anything to do with being thirsty.

JJ watched Cassi take the team's distraction of Hotch's phone call to slink away to the corner of the tent and sit down. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, JJ walked over and quietly took a seat next to her.

"Are you alright?" JJ asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Cassi answered immediately and took a sip of water, "How about you? We took a pretty hard tumble up there."

"Not what I meant," JJ corrected.

"I wouldn't have done it if I wasn't okay with it," Cassi nodded.

"But why did you do it?"

Cassi took a deep breath, trying to form her thoughts into words that JJ would understand, "I'm an observer JJ, and you guys have taught me a lot in the last few days, whether you realize it or not. Lambert tried to kill all of us up there, and he's driving Emily insane. I'm not okay with that."

"You should have talked to us about it first," JJ sighed and watched Hotch hang up his phone.

Cassi laughed, "yeah right, you think Hotch would have let me talk to the media knowing I was going to turn myself into bait for a killer?"

JJ paused for a moment. She knew the answer without having to think about it. There was no way Hotch would have ever allowed such an act. She let out another sigh and turned her eyes back to Cassi, "you think he'll take the bait?"

"You guys brought me in here to think like Lambert. If I was doing the things he's doing and was challenged by someone on live television, I'd be curious enough to do research. When I found out the person who challenged me was skilled in all the things know, and called me out by name…" Cassi paused for a moment, thinking, "I don't think I'd be able to resist."

"And Emily?"

"What better way to really get under her skin then to take someone right out from under her nose," Cassi took a deep breath and finally looked up to meet JJ's eyes, "Emily's gonna be pissed about this."

* * *

><p>Emily Prentiss stared wide eyed at the television next to a slack jawed Penelope Garcia. They both had sat up straighter on the bed to watch when Hotch had walked Cassi up to the cameras. At first she had been a very convincing act. Her body language and nervous answers screamed insecurity, but in an instant something in her had changed. Emily spotted it immediately in the look she had flashed to Hotch at her side. Then she'd done something that she never would have expected. Her bright blue eyes had taken on an icy fire as she looked right through the TV into Emily's eyes with an intensity that chilled her as she threw down the gauntlet.<p>

They watched Cassi walk away despite the roaring crowd, and Hotch stumbled to recover order before following her. Emily was in shock as she stared blankly ahead at the television, no longer seeing the confused reporter speaking to them. So many thoughts and emotions flooded her brain that she had no idea how she really felt about what had just happened. She was furious that Cassi had done something so incredibly stupid, but she was mostly terrified at what it would mean. The intensity in her gaze and the uncomfortable shift in Hotch had closed the deal. Lambert wouldn't be able to resist.

"Oh my god," Garcia whispered, pulling her attention away from the TV, "Why did she do that? Was that planned?"

Shaking her head, Emily shot up from the bed, ignoring the pounding in her head and hurried to her closet. She ripped a sweatshirt from a hanger and pulled it over her head before sitting down on the floor and pulling on a pair of running shoes.

"What are you doing?" Garcia stepped into the closet.

"I'm going to the office," Emily answered, "I can't sit back and let her do this."

"They aren't even there yet Em," Garcia reasoned, watching Emily fumble with her shoelaces, "you've got time. Take a shower, finish your sandwich and get dressed. If you go stumbling in there like that, Hotch will turn you right back around."

Emily looked up at her, swallowing the lump in her throat. Garcia was right, if she stormed into the bullpen wearing track pants and an academy sweatshirt, Hotch would truly believe she had gone crazy. She thought for a second then nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm herself again. The team was still up on the mountain. They had at least an hour or two before they would even get back to the office, though Emily was sure after Cassi's little stunt, they'd be heading directly back. She let Garcia help back to her feet and pulled work clothes from their hangers and hurried off to the bathroom for a shower.

Garcia watched Emily disappear into the bathroom and let out a shaky breath of her own. She turned back to the TV, which now ran Cassi's interview back again.

"Oh Cassi, what are you thinking?" she said quietly to the TV before turning it off and hurrying downstairs to the guest room. She too had to make herself more presentable for the office.

* * *

><p>Ben Lambert was sitting at the cheap desk in the corner of his motel room browsing the internet when the sudden hollering of excited news reporters drew his attention to the TV. He'd had the live report playing all day, watching and waiting for updates on the FBI search team. The sounds of the crowd finally announced the arrival of the team returning from their search. He stood from the desk and walked around to stand in front of the television. The reporter's excitement was contagious and he felt his own excitement building in his chest. However, his excitement was in anticipation for a much different reason. The team had either not found the surprise he'd left for them and were coming down empty handed, or they would be carrying down more than one body bag. He preferred the latter scenario, but he would take the defeated team, with failure written on their faces with a smile.<p>

He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched the screen with an evil grin. To his disappointment, the complete team emerged from the tree line, and he immediately caught sight of the brunette. He blinked in surprise. Had his assumption been wrong, and they'd brought Emily along? As they approached the cameras, he easily calculated the woman's stature to be at least three inches shorter than Emily, and he quickly dismissed her.

His eyes searched their features as they ignored the shouting reporters and moved toward the large tent that had been the highlight of the report for majority of the day. He steadied their faces as they passed and frowned. They didn't appear disappointed or defeated. In fact, they looked downright determined. They little blond agent broke away from the group, and he listened intently as she began speaking to the reporters.

"I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau with FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. I can take your questions," she spoke to the cameras.

The reporters shouted out their questions, and she answered each one carefully and calmly. The more he learned, the more the anger burned in his chest. They'd discovered Rebecca's body, which meant they had tripped the wire that dropped her. Yet no one had been injured by his other trip wire. How had they avoided it, and why wasn't she mentioning that particular part of the search?

"We have brought in a recovery specialist to assist with our search. She's prepared to speak with you as soon as she's completed her briefing with the rest of the team," the agent continued.

Lambert growled at the TV screen. They had cheated and gone to an outside source. A recovery specialist, who had somehow found the body, and the trip wires he'd set for them. He was a self proclaimed recovery specialist himself, and spotting traps like the ones he'd set was not commonly taught. Who was this so called specialist? He could feel his face burning as he listened to the agent sidestep around the important details of the search and recovery.

He crossed his arms over his chest as Agent Jareau finished her report and moved off to the tent. He struggled to control his breathing as anger overwhelmed him. They'd somehow managed to make a fool of him again. He'd been so focused on Emily alone, that he'd underestimated the rest of her team. He watched as Agent Hotchner walked the small brunette he'd seen down from the tent to the waiting cameras, and let out a laugh as her name flashed at the bottom of the screen. This was the recovery specialist? The woman looked about fifteen years old, and radiated anxiety. She looked to Hotchner for guidance through the questions, and nearly whispered all of her answers. Where had they found this girl, and they expected him to believe she had thwarted his attack on the team?

He shook his head, laughing, and was about to brush it off as a fluke, when something in her changed dramatically. In an instant, the girl grew a few inches, squared her shoulders, glared right into his core through the screen and called him out. She was challenging him, and she'd called him by his name. He would have laughed at the ridiculous ploy by the FBI team had he not witnessed the lightning flash look of panic cross over Agent Hotchner's face the moment she'd said it. He looked utterly shocked, and then furious. The nervous little waif he'd first witnessed was an act. Judging by Hotchner's reaction, it had been an act orchestrated by the team. They didn't want him to know who she really was. But something had flipped a switch in her, and he found himself drawn into the dangerous blue eyes that had reached through the TV screen and latched onto his.

He felt the anger growing even stronger in his chest. Everything in him yelled at him that they were setting a trap for him. She was a pretty little brunette, working with the very FBI team he'd become very familiar with. Though she had very different facial features, the burning tenacity in the depths of her blue eyes screamed out the same defiant confidence that had captivated him with Emily Prentiss. She was skilled in the very things he had built a small career on, and appeared to be everything he could ask for in a worthy opponent. But of course, she would lead him directly into the waiting hands of the FBI's finest. He knew all of this, yet he couldn't shake the desire; the desire to destroy the confident, skilled woman and to snatch her right out from under their watchful eyes. She would make the ultimate trophy, and would scar the team forever. How could he possibly resist?

He smacked the TV's power button, killing the image from the screen and he paced. His vision was blurry with anger. Cassidy Maddox had just stepped up the game, and if he proceeded, that would be the end of him. He'd wind up dead. This was the part of the hunt that got his blood moving. The end was in sight, and he knew he would lose if he played by their rules. It was time to change the rules. He was going down, but if he played his cards correctly he would still win. If they were going to take him out, he was going to take Cassidy Maddox and Emily Prentiss with him. He needed a solid plan, and to do this he needed to do some research. He would need to learn everything there was to know about their recovery specialist.

* * *

><p>It was late in the evening when the tired and dirty team shuffled out of the elevator into the bullpen. Emily shot to her feet from her desk at the sound of the elevator arriving and waited nervously for them to exit. Hotch's eyes met hers the moment he'd stepped through the metal doors and she gave him a sympathetic smile. He looked exhausted. An equally tired and much dirtier Morgan, JJ, Rossi, and Reid all followed close behind him, dragging their packs in their hands, but each giving her a smile as they saw her.<p>

"Hey," JJ greeted her quietly, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," Emily gave her a weak smile, "thanks for being there."

JJ nodded and gave her arm a squeeze before shuffling forward and joining the guys near their desks. Hotch stepped up to Emily's side and spoke quietly as Cassi stepped off the elevator.

"I assume you saw the report," he whispered. She nodded. "She's all yours."

Emily gave him a small nod and he turned, leaving the two women standing in front of the elevator. Emily took a few steps away from her and motioned with her head for her to follow her. Cassi flashed a quick look to the rest of the team, who sat around the desks and JJ gave her a sympathetic smile. She blinked to the floor and turned to follow Emily to the break room, away from all other eyes and ears. Whatever Emily had to say, it was meant for her, and her alone.

The moment they'd stepped into the small room, Emily spun on her heels to face Cassi and her arms crossed over her chest. Cassi never really knew her mother, but she was sure this is what a furious mother was supposed to look shortly before blowing up at a disobedient child.

"Well?" was all Emily said.

"Well what?"

"What the hell were you thinking?" Emily's voice pitched, "Lambert is probably out there sharpening his knife as we speak!"

"No, we have his knife," Cassi grinned. Emily was not amused.

"Don't joke," Emily scolded, "What you did was not only incredibly stupid and dangerous, but could very well get Hotch in deep with our bosses. Why did you do it?"

Cassi took a deep breath, "That bastard tried to kill us up there. He's been running this show for too long. You brought me here to do a job, and that's to find Lambert for you. I saw the best shot we had to draw him in, so I took it."

"It wasn't your call!"

"How many people would have had to die before someone else made it?" Cassi's voice remained quiet, making Emily swallow and force herself to calm down again.

"What happened up there?" Emily asked after regaining control of her voice, "What changed?"

"I'm not a profiler, I can't tell you what changed, but I can say that he isn't playing anymore. He is going to kill you and your friends if you all don't stop him now. It's by pure luck they aren't dead already."

Emily took a deep breath. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn't turn back time and fix the mess that Cassi caused. They needed a plan. If they didn't come up with something soon, they were both dead.

"Listen Cass, I appreciate you wanting to protect me, I really do, but from now on, I'm begging you to think twice and run everything by us first."

"You won't even know I'm here," Cassi nodded.

Emily stared at her from a few seconds, mind reeling with the possibilities that lay ahead. This woman had somehow come in, remained on the sidelines quietly, and then suddenly had turned their world upside down. Something had happened up on the mountain, and by the sound of it, without Cassi being there, her family would be dead. She found her anger was nearly gone, but had been replaced by pure fear over what could have happened. She owed Cassi a debt that she wasn't sure she could ever repay.

Cassi turned to leave but Emily caught her around the wrist. She turned her head and her eyes met Emily's briefly before she found herself being pulled into a tight hug. For a moment she didn't know what to do. Cassi was not a huggy person, and she hadn't pictured Emily to be either.

"Thank you for keeping them safe," Emily spoke behind her, before breaking the hug.

Cassi stared blankly at her, unsure of how to respond. Emily sniffed her emotions back, refusing to let them surface, and Cassi did the only thing she knew how do to. She gave her a half grin and walked away.

Once Emily and Cassi rejoined the team in the bullpen, Hotch made sure he had all of their attention before filling them in on their instruction for the night. He had spoken with Strauss, who had taken some convincing to settle on a plan. They would be all staying in a hotel until Lambert was caught. The danger to each of them had become too personal, and it was deemed too dangerous to allow it to follow them home. Hotch passed this information on to his team, and to his surprise, none of them argued.

"There's eight of us, and only one of him," Hotch finished, "this ends now. We'll get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow we'll come up with a plan."

* * *

><p>The hotel that Hotch had chosen for them was a nice four star high rise in which they'd been given four rooms. It was easily decided that Emily and Cassi would share a room, with the guys doubled up in the room on each side, connected by adjoining interior doors, while JJ and Garcia shared a room straight across the hall. It was highly unlikely that Lambert would be crazy enough to hit them at the hotel, but if he did, there was no way the entire team wouldn't be alerted by noise coming from one of the other rooms.<p>

Emily had just settled into one of the queen sized beds when Cassi flicked off the lights, dimming the room and stepped into the bathroom for a shower. She lay there in the dark for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling and forced her brain to quiet its thoughts on Lambert. Her hangover had given in on its intensity, but left her head throbbing behind her eyes. She'd taken a large dose of generic painkillers, and downed a large glass of water right before bed, and prayed it would do the trick. She knew she wouldn't be getting much sleep, despite how tired she felt. She couldn't stop thinking.

A few minutes later, Cassi emerged from the bathroom and quietly slunk across the room in the dark without a word. Emily watched her as she walked around the edge of the other bed and sat down with her back to her. In the dim light Emily could make out what looked like the edge of a dark tattoo peeking from the edge of tank top at her shoulder, but was more drawn to a smattering of scars just below it. Cassi suddenly sat up straight, and turned her head to the side, not quite looking at her, but obviously had sensed Emily watching her.

"Rock climbing accident," she said flatly.

"I'm sorry?"

"The scars, they're from a rock climbing accident," Cassi pulled socks on over her feet and turned to lay out on the bed, "That's what you were looking at right?"

Emily winced. She'd been caught staring. Luckily the scars didn't seem to be the kind that made Cassi feel self conscious. They were simply marks left by the job. Emily had her share of those.

"Your tattoo actually," Emily lied, "what is it?"

"It's a falcon," she answered quietly, "my father loved them."

Emily smiled sadly, "tell me about him."

"Who, my father?" Cassi turned her head to look at her, "Why?"

"I just realized that I don't know anything about you other than what I've read in your file," Emily confessed, "If you're risking your life for me, I feel like I should at least know who you are."

Cassi lay silently for a few seconds, staring at her as if trying to contemplate what she wanted to reveal. After awhile, she finally shrugged and spoke. "I guess you could say he was a bit of a visionary. Some people said he was a little off kilter after my mother died because we lived pretty far away from town. But he always made sure I had what I needed, and he taught me everything I know. He just wasn't a fan of people."

"Sounds like a protective father to me," Emily smiled.

Cassi shrugged, "I guess so. I sometimes wonder what it would have been like growing up like a normal kid though, ya know? To have two parents with normal jobs, public school friends, or to play sports. I was homeschooled, so it really was just me and him."

Emily frowned. Cassi's childhood seemed almost foreign to her. How lonely of a child she must have been spending all of her time with only her father, far away from any sort of civilization. She pictured a young girl running barefoot through the forest like a wild child with a pack of dogs at her sides, like a character from literature and smiled. How odd, and yet comfortable it must have been knowing nobody but her father. Of course Cassi had grown to become one of the leading professionals in her field, she hadn't really had a choice. She'd been molded into her career from the day her mother had been killed.

"What about you?" Cassi pulled her from her thoughts, "What brought you to where you are?"

"Oh, I'm quite the opposite," Emily laughed, "I went to more schools than I can remember, and my parents are probably the people I spent the least amount of time with. I'd choose a backwoods childhood over politics any day of the week."

"Sounds stressful," Cassi grinned, "Why the FBI?"

"Like you, it's just something I knew I was meant to do. I'm good and it and I'm making a difference."

"Funny how life can lead people in the same direction, even when they started in completely opposite worlds."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Emily smiled.

"We better shut up and try to get some sleep," Cassi pushed the blankets down with her feet, "We've got a killer to catch tomorrow."

"Two of them," Emily reminded her.

Cassi's face fell slightly, "That's right, two of them."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Annnnnd scene. What'd you guysgals think? Little bit of background, and some friendly chit chat before their world flips over! Hold on, next chapter will be the Lambert showdown!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note: You have no idea how crazy busy the last two weeks have been here! I've wanted to write this chapter so bad, but just couldn't find the time or energy. But piece by little piece I finally managed to get it finished and I really like how it turned out. I hope you do to! Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>The team arrived at the office early the next morning, and immediately set off to the round table room to work on a plan to bring in Lambert. As they settled around the table with their steaming coffee cups and stacks of files, Garcia made herself comfortable at a small desk in the rear of the room. She quietly unpacked her laptop from its case and set it up on the desk while the team began their briefing. While the laptop booted up, Garcia glanced around the table, soaking in the weary appearances of her friends. Both Emily and Cassi's faces held new lines of stress and exhaustion that hadn't been there the day before and Garcia wondered if either of them had gotten a wink of sleep. In their positions, she doubted she would have been able to even close her eyes without fear of monsters with knives jumping out at her, much less actually sleep. Emily's eyes flashed over to her, sensing her staring, and Garcia gave her a small sympathetic smile. Emily returned the smile and Garcia turned her attention to her laptop, allowing Emily to focus on the briefing instead of being watched.<p>

As the briefing progressed and the team snowballed ideas and theories, Garcia clicked through the impressive amount of emails that she had received during her time at Emily's apartment the day before. It never ceased to amaze her how many unread messages she had waiting for her after only one day off. She quickly scanned through them, ignoring the invitation to SSA Jonathan Hampton's retirement party. She didn't even know a Jonathan Hampton. It wasn't the first time she'd received invitations to such things, and she was pretty sure her name just showed up on an automatic mass office employee generator, and whoever was having said party simply decided to invite all.

After nearly an hour, and having to stop only once to do a quick search for the team, she reached the end of her unread box and clicked on the final email. It had been sent late in the night with a priority flag, and was labeled simply as important. She frowned at the label for a moment before opening the file and was confused to see only an audio attachment and the name Archer typed below it. She glanced around the room at the team as Rossi was speaking about what he'd observed up on the mountain, and quietly dug a pair of ear bud headphones from her bag. She was curious to what was on the audio file, but didn't want to interrupt the briefing if was only some information on Archer that the already knew. She plugged the buds into her ears, and took a deep breath before clicking on the attachment. A deep voice pierced through the buds and into her ears, causing her breath to catch in her lungs the second it spoke. She fought the ringing in her ears from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, struggling to understand what the voice was saying. The message was short, and when it was finished, she clicked on it again to make sure she had heard it correctly.

"Sir!" she shot up from her seat, startling everyone around the table, and ripping the headphones from her ears, "you need to hear this."

"What is it, Garcia?" Hotch asked, eyeing the laptop.

"Listen," she turned the volume up on the computer, and clicked again on the audio file.

"Hello Agents," the steady voice filled the now silent room from the laptop's speakers, "Someone is taking the lives of women in D.C. I know where he's been hiding, and if you want him stopped, you can find him where Justice sits before the day is up. This may be your only chance."

The room was silent for a split second when the audio ended before anyone dared to speak. Their case had just taken another bizarre twist; one that they hadn't seen coming.

"Who is that?" Reid asked quietly.

"There's no contact information on the email, but I'll run the IP address and see where it takes me. It is signed though," Garcia pointed to the typed message at the bottom of the screen, "It's from Archer."

"Why would Archer care about Lambert?" Emily asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Archer hasn't killed any women," Rossi said, "Maybe the fact that Lambert has chosen female victims and is killing in the same area of operation has somehow offended him."

"I don't think so," Hotch shook his head, "Play the message again Garcia."

Garcia nodded and quickly clicked on the icon. They listened intently as the short message replayed, each of them listening for any clues as to what the message meant.

"It doesn't make any sense," Reid said, "why would Archer care what Lambert is doing?"

"We've been working really hard at keeping the media as quiet as possible with Archer's case," JJ said, "Maybe he's pissed off that Lambert is getting more media attention."

"If he just wanted to take out his competition, why not kill Lambert himself," Rossi said, "why offer him up to us?"

"This feels wrong," Morgan shook his head, "Everything we've seen of Archer points to him being a very efficient, straight forward kind of guy. Now he's calling us up and giving us some riddle to follow?"

"I think Morgan is right," Reid said, "I know we don't know much about Archer, but his contacting us just doesn't fit the profile."

"A robot," Emily whispered, thinking. She'd zoned out to her own thoughts moments before, and her mind began a snapshot recall of all the events leading up to this moment. One detail jumped out at her, and she struggled to make any sense of it. Suddenly it hit her, and she sat up and said it loud enough for everyone else to hear, "It's not Archer."

The team went silent, turning to stare at her sudden excitement.

"Randy said Archer spoke like a robot," she explained, "He was using a voice distorter. Why would Archer use a voice distorter when he knew the person he was talking to wouldn't live to tell anyone his identity?"

"It's an intimidation factor," Morgan answered, "Just like the mask."

"So why isn't he using it now?" Emily pointed to the laptop.

"Because it was a detail that wasn't released to the press," Hotch answered, letting his head droop between his shoulders, "It isn't Archer."

"It's gotta be Lambert," Rossi thought aloud, "he's reacting to Cassi's interview, and he's calling us out."

True to her word to Emily, Cassi had been doing a very good job making herself unheard and forgotten throughout the briefing. She'd slunk down into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest, making herself look like a child being punished, and she hadn't spoken a word all morning. Throughout the briefing, Emily had glanced over at her, and had been surprised by her appearance. Her face held deep stress lines and dark circles had somehow appeared overnight, making her look her actual age of nearly thirty. Finally, the unflappable woman was showing signs of the same stress the rest of them had been suffering from for days and Emily felt bad for her.

At the mention of her name, Cassi looked up from the spot on the table she'd been staring at and blinked away her deep thoughts. She didn't say anything, but merely stared up at Rossi, waiting for someone to tell her what they wanted her to do about it.

"We can use this to our advantage," Morgan offered, pulling attention away from Cassi, "Lambert is trying to set a trap for us, but he's in our house now, and we know it's him. This is our chance to take him down."

"Morgan's right," Rossi said, "We have the element of surprise, we just need to figure out where he's going to be, and get the team set up before the time he'll be there."

"He'll be where Justice sits before the day is up," Reid repeated the message and thought for a moment, "The Supreme Court building. The Contemplation of Justice statue is _sitting_ right outside."

"Cassi," Hotch pulled her attention back to him, "What do you think?"

"This is all so beyond the, _what would I do in his position_ scenarios now Hotch," she answered quietly, "I think you know what you're doing, but just remember that he's a resourceful son of a bitch."

Hotch's mind had been made up and the team straightened up and prepared for the orders they knew where coming. All conversation was set aside while Hotch gave out their assignments.

"Garcia, run the IP address and see what you can find out about the voice on the audio. It doesn't belong to Lambert, so he had to have had someone record it for him. Reid, get me a map of the Capitol Park. I want to know every bike path, walking trail, visitor kiosk and vendor within a mile radius of the Supreme Court building. If there's any possible exit strategy, I want to know about it. Morgan and Prentiss, I work with Reid on the map, but I need you to map our vantage points. We need a strategy plan. Dave, I hope you still have friends in high places 'cause you and I need to make some phone calls."

Rossi stood, shuffling his papers back into their folder as the rest of the team scrambled out of the room to their assignments, "Just let me know what you need."

"We need to clear out the U.S. Supreme Court building."

* * *

><p>The sun was only just setting when Hotch pulled the black SUV up to the curb on First Street, about fifty yards from the Supreme Court building. His sharp eyes scanned the area, and except for the few tourists taking photos, the building appeared to be abandoned. He shot a quick glance to the passenger's seat and shook his head at Rossi.<p>

"I don't know who you know in there, but we owe them one," Hotch said with a grin.

"We'll just say this makes us even," Dave smiled back.

Hotch chuckled and stuck his ear bud into his left ear before turning on his portable radio. He tapped the radio key twice to clear the air before speaking into the mic, "Radio check,"

"Rossi copy… Jareau copy… Reid copy," their responses came back in a well rehearsed pattern, making him feel better to know he had contact with them, even though he couldn't see them.

Morgan listened to the prospective voices of his friends answer the radio check through his earpiece as he pulled the SUV to the curb under a large tree. He glanced to Emily at his side as she keyed up her mic and copied the transmission before leaning over and pulling the binoculars from the glove box. "Morgan copy," he quickly answered, followed by the final, "Hotchner clear."

Morgan and Prentiss had taken up position under a large tree around the block from Hotch and Rossi, while JJ and Reid were parked along the opposite end. From their positions they could cover every vantage point that led to and from the Supreme Court building. If Lambert showed up, they would have him completely surrounded.

"I can see the statue," Prentiss peered through the binoculars through the tinted passenger's side window, "there's nobody there."

Morgan smiled, "You didn't expect him to be just waiting there for us did you?"

Emily lowered the binoculars from her eyes and turned to look at him. Rolling her eyes she sat back and tugged her ballistic vest down from where it had slid up under her chin from sitting in the bucket seat, "Do you really think leaving Cassi alone at the hotel was a good idea?" she asked, "what if all of this is just an elaborate way to split us all up a little."

"She's not alone Prentiss," he answered, "She's got three agents with her. Plus, Lambert doesn't even know where she's at. You give him too much credit."

"Yeah well, forgive me if I'm a little paranoid, he's surprised me more than once," she grumbled.

"I don't blame you one bit. I have to admit though, I do have a weird feeling about all of this," he watched a couple walking a large dog walk in front of the SUV as he spoke, "it just seems too easy."

"I know," she agreed and lifted the binoculars again; "I've got the same feeling."

"Just do me a favor alright, don't go taking off running after him like you did back at the office the other day. Stick close and you know I'll have your back the whole time."

She flashed him a smile without taking her eyes away from the binoculars, "I know. I won't."

"Hotch, we've got movement from the east," JJ's voice came over their earpieces and Emily turned the binoculars to the east, "White male wearing blue jeans and a black jacket, he's heading toward the statue."

Emily held her breath and she gripped the door handle with one hand, waiting for word to move. She could feel Morgan moving to do the same beside her as she peered through the binoculars, waiting.

"Negative contact," Hotch's voice announced, just as Emily saw a woman run into her lenses and envelope the man in a hug, "It's not him."

She released her breath and lowered the binoculars to her lap, rubbing her eyes. Straining to see through the device was starting to make her head ache, and she was sure once the sun had gone down completely, she'd have to abandon them. She turned back to speak to Morgan, but before she could open her mouth, her earpiece came to life in her ear.

"Contact," Hotch announced, "Suspect is at the statue. Move in quietly, and hold positions until the civilians have cleared the area."

Morgan and Prentiss were out of the SUV before Hotch had even finished speaking, and quickly moved to the back wall of the building. JJ radioed that she and Reid were in position as they moved along the west wall and came to a stop in the shadows out of site.

"We're in position," Morgan spoke quietly into the radio.

They waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity for Hotch's orders. From their position they couldn't see the statue, or their suspect. They could barely make out the shadows of the oblivious couple cast by the street lights that had come on when the sun had set. Finally, the couple began to move off and away, walking hand in hand off towards the Capitol. Once they were completely clear of the area, Hotch quietly ordered them to move in. Emily followed closely behind Morgan as the crept along the side of the building, keeping their guns trained in front of them.

They arrived at the edge of the building at the exact same time as JJ and Reid crept around the opposite corner, and they raised their guns to site in on the dark figure with his back to them at the statue. Emily felt the unease in her stomach grow as they snuck in closer. The man appeared to be oblivious to them as he puffed out a cloud of smoke from his cigarette and leaned against the statue.

"Benjamin Lambert," Hotch yelled out, as he and Rossi closed in on him from his right.

Before Hotch could give him any more orders, the man pushed off the edge of the statue and bolted across the courtyard. Hotch's feet were moving before he'd even registered what had happened, and he could hear Rossi close behind him as they took off after their fleeing suspect.

Morgan swore at the sudden burst of movement, and took off at a sprint in an attempt to catch up to Hotch and Rossi. Emily was right on his heels, taking quick notice that JJ and Reid were closing in from the other direction. She watched their suspect as she ran, and something about him didn't settle with her. Hotch and Rossi were closing in on him, and he dodged an oncoming pickup truck as he took off across the street. Their suspect made it across the street and climbed into a white sedan that had been parked at the curb as Hotch and Rossi stopped at the opposite side to avoid being hit by a red Buick.

The engine of the sedan roared to life just as Emily and Morgan cleared the courtyard, and in the flash of the headlights, Emily made out the dark shadow of a man standing in the trees across the courtyard of the Capitol building a hundred yards off from their position. She slowed her run as she focused in on the figure, and she instantly knew they'd made a mistake.

"Morgan!" she shouted, "It's not him!"

The blast that suddenly rocked the ground beneath them knocked them from their feet. The force of the explosion hit Emily square in the chest, and she spun away from the heat and landed hard and her hands. The momentum pushed her forward, and she winced as the forgotten gash on her elbow connected with the pavement and split. She felt hot debris rain down on her back and she dropped her head low to protect her face between her elbows until it had stopped.

"Emily?"

She lifted her head at Morgan's voice and she felt his hands on her back. She rolled over quickly, letting him know she was alright, and he helped her to her feet. The white sedan that their suspect had run to was nothing more than a smoldering frame of metal. Dark plumes of smoke roared from the flames and in the glow they spotted Hotch and Rossi in the street, surrounded by pieces of burning metal.

"Hotch!" Morgan shouted, taking off toward their injured friends.

JJ and Reid slid in next to them as they crouched down in the street next to an unconscious Hotch. Rossi coughed and rolled painfully to his side, and with Reid's help, sat up. Emily's brain finally clicked back into action, temporarily stunned by the blast, and she spun to the trees. The dark figure still stood there, watching them. She knew it was Lambert. He had set them up and despite them knowing he would try, they had run right into it.

"Morgan," she called out, stopping Morgan as he approached their friends, "I've got eyes on Lambert. The son of a bitch is watching us."

"What?" Morgan's head shot up and he spun in the direction she was looking.

Emily's feet were practically dancing in anticipation. Every nerve in her body told her to run, as fast as she could and take him down, but she forced herself to wait. Morgan spotted the figure and quickly turned back to JJ, who was already on the phone with an ambulance.

"We got it," JJ shouted over the noise of nearby car alarms that had been set off by the blast, "Go."

They didn't need any further encouragement, and Morgan took off around the edge of the burning car, jogging off in the direction of the trees. If she was wrong, and the figure was merely an onlooker, they couldn't just sprint up and tackle him. But Emily had a gut instinct, and her gut was telling her that wasn't the case. She gripped her gun tightly, and flashed one last look at her injured friends before taking a deep breath and taking off after Morgan. Lambert would pay for hurting her team.

They jogged around the burning car, and the moment their feet hit the pavement of the Capitol courtyard, the figure in the trees turned and took off. Instantly they were sprinting across the concrete and up onto the grass lawn. Emily's elbow was screaming at her, and she felt her hand becoming slick around her gun and knew she was bleeding. She ignored it and pressed on until she could see Lambert's back. They were closing in on him. Thin tree limbs smacked her in the face as they broke through a patch of newly planted junipers, and Emily was surprised to see how much distance Morgan had gained in front of her.

_God, the man could be fast when he's after something_, she thought to herself as she forced her tired legs to move faster. The sound a car horn and screeching tires broke through the air as Lambert dove across the street and hopped the curb, disappearing up the steps and into the thick foliage of the Botanical Gardens. Luckily, the building itself would be locked up for the night, but the surrounding landscaping was nearly a jungle in itself. They listened for sounds of Lambert's running footsteps, but were met with silence. He had stopped running and was hiding.

Emily's heart was pounding in her chest, making it difficult to hear anything. The combination of the long distance sprint and the adrenalin coursing through her veins was making it nearly impossible to focus. Morgan raised his gun, letting it lead the way as he quickly moved forward, scanning the area for signs of an attack. Emily swallowed and forced herself to breathe through her nose as she followed, scanning in the opposite direction. A sudden burst of movement shot up from the bushes on their right, and they spun, guns ready to take out the birds that erupted from the ground, startled by their presence. The distraction was all Lambert needed and he bolted from the shadows of the building and plowed into them with as much velocity as a man of his size could muster in the short distance.

Morgan took the brunt of the hit, knocking all three of them off their feet and over the small ledge of a large concrete fountain. Emily was stunned by the short fall and sudden ache of the freezing water that covered them and shot up her nose, making her choke. She reacted quickly, pushing herself up to her feet in the thigh deep water, coughing, and swiped the water out of her eyes. Lambert acted quickly, pulling Morgan into a headlock and back as he slammed into her, pinning her between his back and the fountain's statue centerpiece. She grunted as the air left her lungs, and her vision burst with white light as his elbow shot up and connected with her jaw. Morgan struggled in his arms, causing Lambert to move, allowing Emily to breathe. Breathing, however, was not her problem, as she felt herself sliding down the smooth concrete and falling back down into the water's icy clutches.

She managed to push herself back up to the water's surface, but her eyes refused to focus. White spots danced across her vision, and the world around them was only a blur of dark colors and occasional movement. She could feel the water splashing and swirling around her, emphasizing the quick, violent movements of the men locked in battle only feet from her as her uncooperative hands skimmed along the smooth bottom of the fountain.

"Prentiss," Morgan called out before taking another brutal hit to the ribs.

Morgan winced and gripped the large arm wrapped firmly around his neck, and fought to spin to face the man behind him. Lambert held tight, pulling Morgan tighter into his chest, trying to squeeze the air from him. Morgan kicked and flailed, splashing and struggling to get through to Emily that he needed her help. She was up to her armpits in the water as she sat on her knees, bracing herself against the side of the fountain as if she would fall over. At first he thought she was just sitting there dazed, but when he'd managed to pull himself away from Lambert enough to get an actual look at her, he realized her whole face was clenched in pain, but her other hand was moving frantically under the water in search of her gun. _Open your eyes Emily_, he thought, _its right next to you._

He could see the hazy form of the Glock under the surface of the water in the dim light of the park lamps, but his vision was beginning to fade as he fought for air, "Emily, by your foot."

Emily heard Morgan croak out her name, and she blinked furiously, finally managing to clear the white spots from her blurry vision. Her hand moved around to her foot, then around to her other, and finally her fingers brushed against something solid. She wrapped her fingers around it and pushed herself up to her feet, using the side of the fountain for balance.

"Let him go Lambert," she yelled, pointing the gun toward the two men. Her vision was clearing slowly, but she didn't dare fire a shot in fear of hitting Morgan. She prayed that Lambert wouldn't know this, and she yelled again, "Now!"

Lambert thought for a moment, and finally released Morgan, pushing him forward into the water. Morgan fell to his knees, coughing and rubbing at his neck, and Emily reached her hand out to him, helping him wade over toward her, while keeping the gun sited in on Lambert. Sirens were closing in on them, and Emily decided it best to hold her position until the cavalry arrived. Neither she nor Morgan was in any shape to get within striking distance of the man.

"Come on Emily," Lambert laughed, "Pull the trigger. You know you want to."

"Shut up," she spit through clenched teeth. Her vision was clear enough to see the evil smile on his face now, and it irritated her beyond belief.

They stood in a silent staring match as the running feet of patrol men tromped across the sidewalks and through the trees into the gardens. Two uniformed officers broke through the trees, guns pointed at her, before moving to her side. They stood still for a second, unsure of what had happened.

"Somebody cuff him please," Emily said between her teeth, and added, "carefully."

One of the officers holstered his gun and climbed carefully into the fountain, hissing at how cold the water was. The officer spun Lambert around, breaking his eye contact with Emily, and wrenched his hands behind his back. Emily grew more irritated as the rookie officer struggled with the cuffs, cursing as the chain refused to stretch far enough to connect his wrists together due do Lambert's broad shoulders. This was something that Emily had seen frequently with larger suspects, but obviously was a dilemma to the new officer.

Emily groaned, having had enough, and holstered her gun to retrieve her own cuffs from her back. She pushed her legs through the water as she closed the gap, and reached for the officer's cuffs that he had attached to Lambert's left wrist. Just as she grabbed the metal link, Lambert jerked, spinning and slamming her into the unsuspecting officer. The officer fell into the water with a splash, and Emily staggered, surprised.

Time screeched to a halt as Emily's eyes fell to the glinting metal in Lambert's hand. She moved for her gun, but he was too close. He would be able to close the distance and the knife would go clean through her vest before she could get a shot off. In the corner of her eye she saw Morgan and the other officer moving as well, but knew neither of them had a shot without risking hitting her or the other officer. Lambert had expertly placed himself right between them in a final act to take her out. She flinched at a blast of sound next to her as the rookie officer managed to get his gun clear and fired off a wild shot. Lambert stumbled as the bullet nicked his thigh, but his momentum kept him moving. Emily squeezed her eyes shut, tensing for the painful hit of the hunting knife and heard what sounded like a loud zip and a crack before her whole chest erupted into a fury of pain and the air left her lungs. As she felt herself falling, she could only make out the sounds of Morgan yelling her name, and splashing of water all around her before her body gave in to the pain and the world faded into dark.

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><p><em>Author's Note: Dun Dun Dunnnn, What happened?...Was it worth the wait and the buildup? I sure hope so! <em>

_To clarify a little on what happened with the handcuffs, A lot of larger, stockier people will not fit into one set of handcuffs. To solve this problem, they'll take two sets and cuff them together in the middle to give them more room. This is what Emily was going to do when Lambert got the drop on her._

_Hope you all enjoyed it, and don't worry, there's much more to come! Click that review button and let me know what you think!_


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: Thanks for all your reviews! Hope I didn't leave you hanging on that cliff for too long! It's bumpy ride now kids so tighten your seatbelts and hang on!_

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><p>Morgan pushed himself to his feet in the cold water, moving as quickly as possible as he watched Lambert spin on Emily. The young officer in the water next to her startled them with a wild popshot, and Lambert staggered slightly. Morgan was moving, but the water slowed him down. Emily was out of time. His mind flashed back to Montana and the pain he'd felt when Lambert's partner had sunk his hunting knife deep into his gut. He cringed as he knew he was about to witness Emily feeling the same pain, and no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't get there in time to stop it. He flinched sideways as something zipped past his ear, and a pink mist burst from Lambert's head, splashing Emily's face and chest. She gasped as a wave of pain flashed across her face, and Morgan watched wide eyed as she hunched over and started to fall. A loud crack of the shot echoed through the trees and the officer next to Morgan spun around, gun drawn, searching for the shooter.<p>

Morgan ignored the sound entirely. The time between the bullet hitting Lambert and the sound of the actual shot told him everything he needed to know. The shooter was far away, and they didn't have a chance at locating him visually. None of this mattered as he grabbed Emily, pulling her back against his chest and backing up against the edge of the fountain, out of the line of fire.

"Get down!" he shouted over the edge at the confused officer then keyed up his radio, "This is Morgan, we are under fire! I have an Agent down. I repeat, Prentiss is down!"

"Morgan, what's your location?" JJ's voice cracked over the radio.

"East side of the Botanical Garden. Keep your head down Jayje. There's a shooter."

Now that he knew that help was on the way, he ignored the fact that he hadn't heard any more shots being fired, and turned his full attention to the woman in his arms. Her head lolled against his chest as he adjusted her weight to get a better look at her. Her face was pale and contrasted by bright red spattering of Lambert's blood. He called out her name, tapping her cheek lightly with his hand, but her eyes made no move to open.

"No, no, no, not again Prentiss," he said through clenched teeth, "you are not doing this to us again."

He reached up to her neck, feeling for a pulse with shaking hands and held his fingers there for a few seconds praying. His fingers were numb from the cold water so he pressed them deeper into the vein in her neck. Relief hit him so hard that he almost fell over when finally he felt a slow beat under his index finger. She was alive.

"Morgan!"

He lifted his head to the sound of JJ's voice as she and Reid ran up the sidewalk. She quickly pushed past the stunned officer above him and jumped over the edge of the fountain, leaning up against his side.

"I think the shooter is gone." she gasped, taking in the form of her unconscious friend, blood tinted water surrounding them, and Lambert's body floating a few feet away, "What happened?"

She brushed the wet hair from Emily's face and took some of her weight from Morgan's arms, allowing him to stand, and then helped him lift Emily up into his arms. Reid and the officer scurried to the edge of the fountain, gripped her under her arms and pulled her up over the side edge, gently laying her down on the sidewalk. JJ pushed herself up over the side, and keyed up her radio mic to call Rossi. Morgan pushed himself to the center of the fountain, and flipped Lambert over in the water. He grimaced at the hole that had once been the man's forehead, and let him sink back down into the water. The hunter was no longer a threat to anyone.

"Rossi, Emily is down," JJ spoke quickly into the radio, "Send the ambulance to the Botanical Gardens. They're clear to come in, suspect is down. I repeat, the ambulance is clear to come in, Lambert is down."

"I copy you JJ," Rossi's pained voice came back over the radio, "we're on our way."

Morgan quickly climbed out of the fountain and kneeled next to Reid at Emily's side. JJ paced next to them, listening to the wail of the siren getting louder, and sent the two patrol officers to the street to wave down the ambulance.

"I can't tell where she's bleeding from," Morgan said. Emily's dark, waterlogged clothes prevented him from seeing anything vital, but his hands kept coming back bloody.

"Morgan," Reid pointed, "there."

Morgan spotted the hole in the dark fabric of her vest, just below the bright FBI lettering. He swore under his breath and pressed his hands down firmly over it, eliciting a pained moan from Emily. Her hand moved sluggishly up from the ground and swiped at his arm in a weak attempt to move it.

"Hey, Prentiss," he called to her as she fought to regain consciousness and groaned again, "I'm sorry Em. I know it hurts."

Her breath came out in shallow wheezes and finally she blinked up at him, shivering against the cold air as it sank her soaked clothes. Slowly she focused on the faces above her, blinking slowly to clear the fog. Morgan was dripping wet and Reid looked absolutely terrified. Above them she could see JJ, standing back with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, staring down at her. Morgan's hand shifted on her vest and she gasped at the pain the pressure caused, making it difficult to breathe. She wanted to tell him to stop, that he was making it worse, but she couldn't find the air to speak. Her arm instinctively pushed at his hands before losing its energy and falling to rest on her chest.

Morgan watched her hand fall down over his and felt, more than saw, the warm smear of blood it left over is forearm as it brushed past. He frowned as his mind worked through the small detail. Her arm was bleeding. The blood it had left on his arm was thick and warm on his cold skin. He blinked down at his hands when she wheezed out a labored breath and her eyes fluttered shut again. Then he realized what she'd been trying to tell him. Something was missing. His hands weren't warm, they were freezing and numb. He quickly lifted his hands from her chest and flipped them over, eying them. There was no blood, they were clean. Quickly he yanked at the Velcro straps of the vest, ignoring Reid's question to what he was doing. He pulled it from her chest and flipped it over in his hands, letting his eyes close in relief. He could see the small metallic bulge in the dark material on the other side, but it hadn't breached. The vest was ruined, but it had done its job and stopped the round before it had entered Emily's chest.

"It didn't go through," he said to Reid, and dropped the vest to his side, "Prentiss? Come on Emily, wake up?"

Slowly she opened her eyes again, taking a slightly deeper breath now that she wasn't constricted by Morgan's hands pressing down onto her chest.

"Hey, there you are." Morgan smiled at her and she did her best to return it, "you gotta stop scaring us like that Princess."

"What happened?" she wheezed, and motioned for him to help her sit up.

"I don't think you should move Emily," Reid protested, placing his hand on her shoulder, "the bullet didn't go through your vest, but the impact alone could have caused internal damage."

Emily blinked at him, dazed, and tried to make sense of what he was saying. What bullet? When had she been shot? Lambert had had a knife, not a gun. She tried to move despite his warning and immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot through her chest and made her hands tingle. She groaned and carefully let her head fall back to rest against the pavement. Reid was right; she wasn't going anywhere until the medics had pumped her full of amazing painkillers. She let her eyes close as the stamping of feet and JJ's voice announced the arrival of the medics. Explanations would have to wait.

* * *

><p>Hotch woke with a start and for a moment was confused to where he was. The room was white, and a loud ringing in his ears made him dizzy. Movement next to him drew his attention and he relaxed when he saw JJ and a battered looking Rossi moving toward him. He let out a deep breath when the memory of what had happened came back to him. There had been an explosion.<p>

"What happened?" he asked, and relaxed back into the pillow behind his back.

"You've been out for about a few hours," JJ answered, "How are you feeling?"

Hotch blinked up at her, taking a moment to decipher her soft voice through the ringing in his ears, "He set a trap."

"We knew he would," Rossi added.

"We fell for it."

"Hotch, there was no way we could have known he'd use a car bomb. Nothing in his background had said anything about explosives. He paid someone to be his patsy and he blew him up."

"A patsy?" Hotch scowled, "it wasn't Lambert?"

"No. He set us up." Rossi answered and sat down, "we think he paid someone to make that audio file, and then to lure us to the car to take us out. Unfortunately for him, his ego wouldn't let him keep his distance and Morgan and Prentiss spotted him."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Hotch had instantly noticed the missing members of his team.

"Emily's got some broken ribs and took another good whack to the head, but she'll be okay. They want to keep her overnight for observation."

"And Lambert?"

"He's dead," Rossi finally answered after flashing a quick glance to JJ, "someone shot him."

"Someone?" Hotch frowned.

"Morgan said he saw the bullet hit Lambert a couple seconds before he heard the shot, so it was a pretty good distance away," JJ answered, "They canvassed the area and traced it back to the Jefferson Library. They found the rifle, but no sign of the shooter."

"Lambert was shot by a sniper?" Hotch didn't like where this was going.

"Single shot to the head," Rossi nodded.

"Archer?"

"We think so," Rossi confessed, "Unless there's another incredibly skilled sniper in D.C. that just happened to cross our paths tonight."

"Why would Archer shoot Lambert?" Hotch asked, "How would he even know where he'd be?"

"Maybe that audio message really was from Archer," JJ shrugged.

"We need to take another look at that file," Hotch directed to Rossi.

"Already on it, Garcia was able to trace the IP address back to the same public terminal used to send the photo to Emily's email. The file came from Lambert, but she also found traces of a worm planted into the file. Someone else was interested in the file, and traced it as well. My guess is Archer."

"So Archer gets in the file and hears Lambert pretending to be him," Hotch said, "He may have simply killed him for impersonating him."

"We never profiled that Archer would be keeping tabs on us," Rossi sighed, "until now, he hasn't shown any signs of being interested in the investigation at all."

"He's a professional. He could have worked his way into our systems from the very beginning and we were so focused on Lambert that we missed it."

Hotch ran his hands over his face and let out a deep sigh before moving to climb out of the bed, "Archer killed his victims quickly with no more than a day cooling off period. Then he lies dormant for two days before killing Lambert, who has no connections to Sikes' terrorist sect. We need to find out why."

Rossi and JJ nodded and made a quick exit from the room, giving Hotch the privacy he needed to find his clothes and change. Despite the doctor's advice, there wasn't a chance he would be lying in a hospital bed when a killer, who had just shot Prentiss, was still out there.

They made their way down the hall and into the small waiting room around the corner. Reid sat quietly in one of the pink chairs, sipping from a cafeteria coffee cup and staring at the floor. Garcia sat next to him, typing madly away at her laptop in her lap before looking up and smiling at her approaching friends.

"How's Hotch?" she asked.

"He's awake and getting ready to check himself out," Rossi answered, "What about Emily?"

"Trying to do the same thing," Reid laughed, "fortunately, they upped her dose of Demerol and she gave up trying."

JJ rolled her eyes with a smirk, "As much as she's been in here lately, I'm surprised she's not immune to the stuff."

"Oh no Sweetheart, not in the least," Garcia laughed, "She's flying higher than Sputnik right about now. Morgan's in with her."

A quiet beep from the floor drew Garcia's attention to the bag under her chair. Confused, she handed her laptop over to Reid and bent over her chair to retrieve the device from the confines of her oversized purse. She'd stuck Forester's laptop into the bag during her hurried retreat from her office to the hospital as soon as she'd been told Hotch and Emily had been injured in taking down Lambert. She'd had every intention in letting the diagnostic software complete its clearing of the files once she'd gotten home, but the beep had announced it had finished ahead of schedule. She flipped the screen open, clicked a few keys and raised her eyebrows before smiling up at the team.

"I'm in," she grinned.

"What?" JJ moved quickly around to the seat at Garcia's other side, "Is that Forester's computer?"

Garcia nodded and Rossi moved around to stand next to JJ and peered over them at the screen. Files upon files of coded information were shuffling at supersonic speeds across the monitor as Garcia's program rewrote them into readable text. Their attention was shortly drawn away from the screen as a small contingent of suits entered the lobby, leading in a very flustered looking Cassi. She spotted them and stepped quickly over, leaving the three agents of her security detail lingering in the hall behind her.

Reid looked up at the clock on the wall reading just after midnight and then over to Cassi, "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Are they okay?" she asked quietly, "I woulda come sooner, but they wouldn't let me leave," she motioned over her shoulder at the agents.

"They're gonna be fine," JJ answered with a small nod.

"They said Emily was shot," Cassi wrapped her arms around herself, "God, this is my fault."

Rossi frowned at the rattled woman, "You don't have anything to be sorry about Cassi. Lambert is dead, and Hotch and Emily are going to be just fine. It's over, and you helped."

The fallen look on her fast spoke louder than any words she could have said. She didn't believe his reassurances one bit.

"This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't called him out," Cassi said quietly.

"Yes it would have," Hotch's voice behind her startled her, as he rejoined the team. He'd replaced the hospital gown with his filthy suit, which smelled of smoke, and Cassi winced when she saw him.

"Hotch, you need to see this," JJ pulled his attention, pointing down at the laptop.

Hotch moved around to JJ's side and peered down at the laptop as Garcia turned it toward him on her lap. The screen held a black and white video image of a young boy sitting on the floor of a small room. There was no audio to the file, but the movement of the boy's mouth told them he was speaking.

"Is that Archer?" Reid asked, leaning in to see.

"It's dated July, 1982." Garcia answered.

"This is the first boy," Hotch frowned at the video. The boy was long since dead. He'd taken his own life while sitting in that very room. Though they saw death every day, watching the video of the boy trapped within his little world of hurt, made Hotch's stomach turn.

They watched for a few minutes until the large form of a man walked into the edge of the camera screen, revealing who the boy had been talking to. They recognized Gary Forester immediately from his mug shots. He stalked forward and the boy slid further into the wall. His actions seemed to anger Forester, and he struck out, grabbing the boy by his elbows and lifted him off his feet. Garcia gasped and turned her head away from the screen when one of Forester's big hands came down against the boys cheek and he drug him off the screen. The video feed stopped, popping up the option to replay, but the team stared silently at it.

"Are there any more videos?" Hotch asked quietly.

"There are thousands of files on here Hotch," Garcia answered, "I can go through them and try to narrow out certain dates, but it's gonna take time. I can give it a couple search parameters and let it run for the rest of the night. I should have a good bit of information for you in the morning."

Hotch nodded and straightened back up. His body was sore, and his head hurt from the loud ringing in his ears. He was tired, but relieved that Lambert was gone; one of their cases was closed. Now they could go home without fear of the man following them there, and they could sleep, knowing they would have some solid leads on Archer when they woke. They were battered, bruised, and exhausted, but they prevailed, and any day they could stop a killer and walk away from it was a good day.

"I'm assuming you can't just do a search for "Archer"?" JJ asked Garcia.

"I could, but considering this entire computer and it's thousands of files are filled solely by information on the Archer project, it wouldn't narrow it down any," she confessed.

"Ok," Hotch thought for a moment, "Find anything you can on the name Foster. We'll eventually need to figure out what makes Archer tick, and to do that we need to look into how he was raised. But more importantly, we need to figure out who he is now. Narrow down the Archer files between the years 2001 and now."

Garcia nodded and typed his request quickly into the computer. As she expected, hundreds of files began filtering through the search engine, popping up briefly by date, and then shuffling back into the selected search area.

"It's searching," she advised.

Hotch nodded his thanks and looked over his tired team. Reid gave him an innocent grin and Hotch couldn't help but return it. Sure they were sitting in a hospital waiting room, again, but this time nobody was severely hurt, and they were at home. He turned and glanced behind him, expecting to see Cassi tucked alone into a chair at the opposite wall, but she wasn't there. Her small contingent of agents still mingled in the hallway, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. He sighed at Cassi's disregard for telling them where she was going, and approached the group of agents. He shook their hands, thanked them for their help, and relieved them of duty. Lambert was dead and Cassi didn't need to be babysat.

* * *

><p>Down in hospital room 109, Morgan stretched out in the stiff chair next to Emily's bed. He muffled a groan as his sore muscles protested to the stretch of his legs, then relaxed into the backrest. He smirked as Emily's eyes shot open at the quiet sound of his movement. Though she'd finally stopped trying to talk them into letting her leave, she still hadn't stopped fighting the inevitable sleep brought on by the drugs. She turned her head and blinked at him lazily, raising an eyebrow and rewarding him with a dopey grin before letting her eyes droop shut again. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. He hated that he was in the hospital with her again, but was comforted by the fact that she was alright. Lambert's blood had been cleaned off of her face, and her arm had been stitched up. She had broken ribs from the impact of the bullet to her vest, but she'd dealt with broken bones before. They weren't life threatening. Though she'd be sore for a few weeks, she'd be walking out of there in the morning. As he watched her drift back to sleep he swore that this time, they would make damn sure that she rested until she was fully recovered before coming back, regardless of what her doctor said. Her doctors didn't know Emily like they did. She could fool them without even breaking a sweat. Morgan knew better, but this time he hoped Emily wouldn't even try, and just enjoy her time off.<p>

His attention was drawn by a light knock on the door, and was surprised to see Cassi standing in the open doorway. Her hair was slicked down against her head as if she'd spent the last hour running her hands over it, and she stood nervously with her hands tucked deep into her pockets.

"Hey," he whispered, nodding her over with his head, "come on in."

She stepped silently into the room and over to his side, "I came over as soon as they'd let me," she whispered, "How is she?"

"Hi," Emily's voice interrupted them as the sound of a new voice had her fighting off sleep again.

Cassi arched an eyebrow above the frame of her glasses and couldn't help but grin at the goofy smile on Emily's face, "yes, you certainly are."

"Lambert is dead," Emily slurred, blinking lazily, "so you can go home now."

Cassi's grin fell and she became uncomfortable again. Morgan noticed the change in her appearance and stood up. He set his hands on Cassi's shoulders and moved her over to take his place in the chair.

"She meant that in a good way," he smiled, then turned to Emily, "you two have fun, I'm gonna get me some coffee."

"I want some," Emily said as he walked to the door.

"Not a chance Princess," he called back over his shoulder and disappeared into the hallway.

Emily laughed and turned her head back to look at Cassi, blinking to focus her eyes in the dim light. Cassi wasn't really sure why she had come down to Emily's room. She'd been standing in the waiting room with the team feeling incredibly guilty, but they had reassured her. Why, she didn't understand. They didn't owe her anything. She'd called out Lambert, and nearly gotten half of them killed, yet they welcomed her back with smiles.

"What?" Emily's question pulled her from her thoughts.

"Huh?

"You look like someone kicked your puppy."

Cassi smirked at the analogy, "yeah Em, Someone kicked my puppy."

"Bastard," Emily grinned at her own comment.

Cassi couldn't help but laugh, "Are you sure you're only on painkillers?"

Emily smiled and her eyes drooped. She let them stay closed for a second before forcing them open again and refocusing in on Cassi. Cassi let out a deep sigh and sat forward in her chair, leaning her elbows on her knees.

"Listen Emily," she spoke to the floor, "I really suck at apologies, but I feel like I really owe you one. I never meant for you to get hurt."

Emily fought with her foggy brain for a second. The tone in Cassi's voice had changed, and she knew she had said something important. She finally made sense of it and calculated a response.

"Shit happens. We accept it and get over it." Okay, so that wasn't what her mind told her to say, but it got the point across. Emily grinned, satisfied.

Cassi stared at her for a second, letting her drug induced bluntness sink in, before smiling and shaking her head, "You know, you're absolutely right."

"I am?" Emily said, letting her eyes close.

"A motto to live by," Cassi teased, "I may just make it my next tattoo."

Emily laughed without opening her eyes, and shortly after the smile faded as she drifted off to sleep, unable to fight it anymore. When she knew she was sleeping soundly, Cassi quietly stood and set her hands on the handrail on the side of Emily's bed and looked down at her for a second. Even hurt and drugged the woman had made the effort in taking care people she cared about, simply by making Cassi feel better. But Cassi had watched her for the last week, struggling with her own weaknesses and fighting her own mind. Emily Prentiss could beat herself up more than Lambert ever could have.

"I hope you get over it," Cassi whispered, giving the sleeping woman a light squeeze on the hand, and then quietly tucking her hands back into her pockets, and leaving the room.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Ding Dong, Lamberts gone! Gave you a mellow breather ending there, but take in all you can get, things are about to get crazy again! Hey look at that shiny new REVIEW button down there!<em>


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Note: Thank you all for your reviews! I really have the best readers! This story is coming to a peak, which means it will be over soon, but don't worry, I have a lot more up my sleeve! Enjoy!_

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><p>At 8 am sharp, Penelope Garcia exited the elevator into the BAU bullpen with an air of determination about her. In one hand she carried an extra venti, half caf, two pump, non fat, hold the whip, caramel macchiato, and in the other hand, she carried the laptop that would break the case. She'd woken up early to check on the status of the search Hotch had asked her to run and was delighted to find it had finished while she was sleeping. Her delight wavered somewhat at the 436 files it had narrowed it down to, but after reminding herself that it was only 436 files out of nearly 1,200, she considered it a win. So she'd quickly gotten ready for work, sporting her comfortable pale yellow t-shirt, with the image of the kittens in a basket that made her happy, she was out the door.<p>

"Morning Baby Girl," Morgan greeted from his desk as she neared.

"I'll show you a good morning," she winked, "ready to break this case?"

She lifted the laptop case in her hand for him to see and he gave her a handsome smile, "Bet your ass I am."

He grabbed his coffee cup and stood to follow her to her office just as Hotch and stepped off the elevator. Morgan stopped and told Garcia he'd meet her there before turning back to his desk. The trio entered the bullpen and Morgan was pleased that neither Hotch nor Rossi seemed to be showing signs of their nearly blowing up the night before. He glanced down at his watch and compared it to the one on the wall. In just three hours, Emily would be released from the hospital, and things would be almost back to normal. Morgan smiled and grabbed Reid as he walked out of the break room.

"Come on kid, Garcia's got a whole computer full of files she needs help with."

"You're in a cheery mood today," Reid replied, "You're not having one of those _cheated death, new look outlook on life_ moments are you?"

Morgan laughed as he pushed open the door to Garcia's office and pushed Reid through it, "Nah man, it's just a good day."

"I'm about to make it better," Garcia beamed up at him from her seat, "I found Foster."

"What, how could you have found Foster already, you just walked in the door?" Reid leaned in over her to look at the screen.

"It was the first search parameter I put in last night," she answered, "it was easier to isolate because there's only one file. It's one of Richard O'Brien's forged papers. Looks like a social security card in the name of Eric Simon Foster born July 28, 1980."

Garcia quickly brought up another search engine and typed away at the keyboard, bringing up pages upon pages of information on Eric Foster. She read them off as quickly as the popped up, leaving Morgan and Reid to hop to write things down.

"Eric Foster, born to John and Elizabeth Foster in Little Rock Arkansas in 1980. His mother was killed in a car accident in '91. He attended Washington Heights High School in Illinois where he graduated with honors in '97 and joined the Army right after. He was honorably discharged in '02 after finishing his enlistment and now owns a construction business called Flippers."

Garcia stopped mid search to ponder over the name, "Flippers? You think they specialize in pools?"

"Garcia focus," Morgan tapped his finger on the computer screen, "Who did he used to be?"

"Cool your jets and don't steal my thunder," Garcia quipped, "I was getting there. Eric Foster used to be, drum roll please, none other than Eric Forester."

"Forester?" Reid replied, "as in Gary Forester?"

"As in Gary Forester's son, born July 28th, 1980 to Gary and Francesca Forester. Nothing much different about his childhood; he grew up in Little Rock and graduated high school then just sort of vanishes."

"Where is he now?"

"Right," she tapped a few keys on her keyboard, and let out a disappointed, "Oh."

"Oh what?" Morgan asked as Garcia's face fell.

"He's dead."

"What do you mean he's dead," Morgan groaned, "when?"

"Last year. Eric Foster was shot and killed in the parking lot while leaving his office. Police opened an investigation and three months later ruled it a random shooting in a local gang war."

"Damn it," Morgan swore, "Another dead end."

"Maybe not," Garcia read from the screen, "he left behind a lot of assets. He owned three houses which were all moved into his wife Lindsay's name. Maybe you can find something in one of his houses, or talk to his wife. She and their son Devin live in Manassas."

"Text me the addresses alright ," Morgan grabbed her shoulders and kissed her on the top of the head, "I'm gonna go let Hotch know what you found."

Morgan hurried out of the office and down the hall, on a mission to fill in Hotch on what they found. Halfway through the bullpen he ran into Cassi as she stepped off the elevator looking more tired than he'd seen her yet.

"Hey Cassi," he greeted and she gave him a minimal smile, "You know the Lambert case is over now right? You're supposed to have slept like a baby and be happy that you can go home."

"Yeah, I know," she shrugged, "I have a meeting with your Chief Strauss. Who would have thought that consulting on a case that resulted in a massive explosion in front of the U.S. Supreme Court would lead to so much paperwork?"

"You should see ours," Morgan laughed.

"No thanks, I'd like to go home at some point today," she grinned.

"Alright, well good luck with that," Morgan reached out and shook her hand, "I've gotta run and let Hotch know we found something on the Archer case, but it was great workin with you Cassi. Keep in touch alright."

Cassi gave him a small smile and sat down at an empty desk while Morgan hurried away to Hotch's office. Hotch was on the phone when he entered, but acknowledges his entry with a nod. Morgan quietly paced around the room, waiting for Hotch to finish up.

"Garcia found Foster," Morgan said as soon as Hotch had hung up the phone, "According to police reports, he was killed in a drive by last year."

"Why would Sikes order a hit on someone who is already dead?" Hotch frowned.

"Maybe he didn't know he was dead. He was probably more interested in the connection to Archer," Hotch raised an eyebrow and him and he continued, "Eric Foster was actually Eric Forester, Gary Forester's son. Garcia found his phony identity in Forester's laptop. She's sending me his last known address, along with the addresses of his other two estates now"

Morgan's phone beeped and he flipped it over to show Hotch the displayed addressed that Garcia had sent him.

"I'm going to take Reid and go talk to the widow. You, Rossi and JJ go check out these other two addresses. See if anyone around knows anything about this guy, or more importantly, who he used to be."

Morgan gave him a quick nod and strode out of the room. As he hit the bottom landing of the short staircase to the bullpen, JJ was emerging from the elevator. She gave him a bright morning smile and made her way toward her office before he stopped her.

"Not so fast Jayje," he called to her, "You and I've got work to do."

"What work?"

"Garcia found a lead on the Archer case. We have to go check out a few houses that belonged to the elusive Mr. Foster."

"Foster?" JJ's eyes lit up, "You found him?"

"Foster's dead, but we found his assets. Hotch wants us to go see what we can find and see if we can trace him back a few years."

"Let me just settle this stuff in my office," JJ turned to walk away and then stopped in her tracks, and turned back to him, "Damn, I'm supposed to pick up Emily from the hospital."

"When is she being released?" Morgan looked at his watch.

"I don't know, sometime this morning. They were going to call me when she was ready to leave."

"I can pick her up if you want," Cassi's voice drew their attention back to the desks, "I should be done with the Chief pretty quick. I'll pick her up and take her to lunch before I leave."

Morgan shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable that no one from the actual team would be picking Emily up from the hospital. But he had learned to trust Cassi, and he knew Emily would understand the importance of time on the case. They would have a nice lunch and then he'd check on her when they got back.

"You're sure?" JJ asked and Cassi nodded, "Thanks Cass."

With that obstacle taken care of, Morgan followed JJ into her office and watched her unload her files before she clipped her glock onto her hip and pulled her hair back out of her face. In a few minutes, she was ready to go. They passed Hotch and Rossi in the bullpen as they waited for Reid to come up from Garcia's cave.

"Archer is staying somewhere," Hotch spoke out to the whole group, "I doubt that it's with Foster's wife and son, but it's possible he's staying at one of the other locations. Stay sharp."

They all nodded their understanding and broke apart to begin their assignments, each of them feeling a new sense of determination. They had closed one case, and had a handful of solid leads on the other. Today was a turning into a good day.

* * *

><p>Hotch pulled the SUV up the long, tree lined driveway to the house Garcia had traced back to be Foster's last known residence. He eyed the modest brick cottage style house and was drawn to the happy golden retriever bounding across the yard after a young boy. The moment they'd parked the truck and stepped out, the dog let out a deep bark and ran up to the edge of the fenced yard. The boy stopped, grabbing the dog by his collar and watched them approach the fence.<p>

"Hi," Hotch smiled at the boy, "Are you Devin?"

The boy stared at him curiously for a moment and Hotch pulled his badge from his pocket.

"My name is Aaron. I'm with the FBI. This is Doctor Reid. We're here to talk to your mom. Is she home?"

"Mom!" the boy yelled toward the door on the top of the porch.

A few seconds later, a young blonde woman pushed open the screen door, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"Can I help you?" she asked, stepping down the steps to their level.

"Mrs. Foster?" Hotch held his badge up for her to see.

"Yes."

"I'm Special Agent Hotchner, this is Doctor Reid, we're with the FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

The woman looked from his badge and to each of them as if deciding whether or not to trust them before speaking.

"Is this about Eric?" she asked quietly.

Hotch nodded and glanced over at the boy who was watching them intently, "yes ma'am, it is. May we come inside?"

"Oh, of course," she cleared her throat, "Devin, can you take Bird around back and make sure he's got plenty of water? Then make sure you brush him out good before he comes in ok, I'm gonna be inside talking to Agent Hotchner and Doctor Reid."

"Ok," Devin gave them one last curious look before reluctantly pulling the dog around the side of the house.

They followed the woman up the patio steps and into the house. She led them into a modestly lived in family room and motioned for them to sit down.

"Can I get you something to drink," she offered nervously, "I've got fresh iced tea, or I can put on some coffee."

"Iced tea would be nice," Hotch answered with a smile.

She quickly left the room and Hotch used the temporary distraction to scan the room privately. It was a large room decorated with a dark wood entertainment center and side tables next to the suede couch that Reid sat in. Hotch found himself particularly drawn to the assortment of photos placed on the shelves and hung carefully on the walls. Each of the photos held the same story. Eric Foster loved his family. The home was littered with paper memories of fishing trips, elementary school sports games and family vacations. Either the son of Gary Forester was a very good con man, or he had managed to escape the life of his father and lead the happy life of a family man as the photos suggested. Until the day it had caught up to him in the parking lot of his office last year.

Mrs. Foster returned to the room carrying a small tray of iced tea and set it on the coffee table in front of Reid. They thanked her and she sat down in a chair across from the couch as Hotch sat down next to Reid on the couch.

"Eric was a great father," she smiled up at the photos fondly; "he wanted to give Devin all the things he never had as a child."

"What do you know about Eric's childhood Mrs. Foster?" Hotch asked.

"Please, call me Lindsay," she corrected, "My husband was a very private person. He didn't really like to talk about it very much. He had a very abusive father."

"Did you ever meet his father?"

"No," she looked suspiciously at them, "he passed away before we met. Why?"

"We're looking for someone who may have been an associate or acquaintance of Eric's father at some point."

Lindsay's forehead furrowed in thought, "I really wouldn't know anything about that. They weren't close."

"What did your husband do for work?" Reid asked, noticing that Hotch needed a moment to process her last answer.

"He owned a contracting company called Flippers," she answered, "They specialize in flipping homes. This was one of his first."

The sound of jingling tags and clicking toenails on the hardwood announced the fast approaching golden retriever. Hotch held off on his next question, knowing the boy would be close behind his canine companion. As if on cue Devin entered the room quietly and stepped over to his mother's side.

"Are you guys here about my dad?" he asked quietly, his bright blue eyes focusing in on Hotch.

"Yes we are," Hotch answered honestly, "We're just trying to learn a little more about him, that's all."

"Can I help?" he asked innocently.

"Actually, maybe you can," Hotch pulled two printed out photos of Gary Forester, and Thomas Sikes from his pocket and handed them over to Lindsay, "Do you recognize either of these men?"

Lindsay studied each photo for a few second before shaking her head and handing them to Devin. The boy eyed each one carefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration and then shook his head.

"Nope," he said, and handed them back to Hotch.

"That's ok," Hotch pushed the photos back into his jacket pocket, "thanks for looking."

"Devin, honey, why don't you go play in your room for a little while so we can finish talking," Lindsay instructed and the boy frowned.

"Would it be okay for Doctor Reid to go too?" Hotch asked, "I'm sure he'd like to see your room."

Hotch directed the question to Lindsay, asking silent permission for Reid to speak to her son alone. She thought it over for a few seconds before nodding her approval.

"Oh, yeah," Reid stuttered, "I'd love to see your room."

Devin's eyes lit up and he grabbed Reid by the hand and led him down the hall. Hotch waited for them to disappear into the bedroom before he asked the question that had been interrupted by Devin's presence.

"Do you have any idea who would have wanted to hurt Eric?"

"Like I told the detectives a year ago when he was killed; nobody wanted Eric dead. He was a good man, the kind that would go out of his way to help people. People liked him. They said his death was a random gang shooting. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Did he ever mention the name Archer to you?" Hotch asked, "Or maybe you overheard it somewhere?"

"Archer? No, what is that?"

"What about the name Gary Forester?" Hotch skipped over her question.

Lindsay paused and cleared her throat, "Yeah, Gary Forester was Eric's father."

"How long have you known Eric was using a different last name?" Hotch asked surprised.

"As long as I've known him," she answered, "He told me when we first started dating. He changed his name to get away from his father, who was into some bad things. He used to say that he couldn't completely remove who he was, but he could remove a few letters from his name."

She smiled fondly at the memory and Hotch sat quietly for a moment, trying to decide what direction to take the interview. Lindsay Foster was not what he'd expected. All signs pointed to a loving family led by a father and husband who had left behind a former life to become an honest man. What were they missing?

"Like I said Agent Hotchner," Lindsay pulled him from his thoughts, "Eric was a private man, but he was always honest with me. He had his flaws and he had his secrets, he would never have gotten mixed up in anything connected to his father. He left that life behind and was happy."

"That's why we're trying to find any of those connections," Hotch said, "We have reason to believe that this person we're looking for has some connection to Eric's father."

"Maybe you should talk to Maggie," Lindsay said after taking a sip from her iced tea, "she's one of his old friends from high school."

Hotch's heart leapt at the possible lead, "Do you have Maggie's last name?"

"Weston," she answered, "Margaret Weston I think. I dont really know her that well. She came by a few times for a holiday or two, but she always sends a card to Devin on his birthday, and a present at Christmas. She calls every once in a while just to check on us and see how how we're doing."

"Do you have an address for her?" Hotch asked, "We'd like to speak with her."

"Sure, let me grab one of the cards. She's in the military and moves around a lot so I don't remember the address off the top of my head."

Hotch watched her retreat down the hall and quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket and hit the speed dial button.

"Word to my Hotchner," Garcia greeted.

"I don't know what that means,"

"Nevermind, what can I do for you, boss?"

"I need you to run the name Maggie or Margaret Weston. She may have gone to high school with Eric Foster."

"High School yearbook coming up. Anything else?"

"Not yet. Stay on the Archer files. This might turn into another dead end here. Any word from Rossi and Morgan?"

"They got zilch on the first address. Turns out the house had been completely renovated and bought by a sweet old man who can't remember his kids names, much less the name of the man who sold him the house."

"Alright, we're almost finished here, we should be back in an hour or two."

"I'll let you know what I have something."

"Thanks Garcia."

Hotch hung up the phone just as a loud crash echoed down the hallway, sounding as if something heavy had been dropped. He quickly stood and craned his neck to see down the hallway.

"Mrs. Foster?" he called out, "Are you alright?

A shadow moved across the wall in the hall and Hotch felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. Something was wrong. He slowly moved to retrieve his gun from its holster when the door burst open in front of him. He jumped and ripped his gun from his hip and trained it down on the masked man whose large arms wrapped around the woman. He flinched when he realized the man had reacted faster, and Hotch found himself looking down the barrel of a gun as well. Lindsay's terrified eyes went to Hotch as she kicked out and clawed at the arm the man had tightly wrapped around her neck, using her to shield himself from Hotch's gun.

"Let her go!" Hotch warned.

The man laughed, "Or what?"

Hotch didn't answer and kept his gun sighted in as best as he could with Lindsay pulled tightly against the man's chest. The man dragged her to the side, keeping his gun on Hotch, and kicked the door to Devin's room open.

"Come on Sully, move it." The man shouted into the room.

Hotch's breath caught when Reid walked slowly from the room with his hands raised in front of him. His eyes made contact with Hotch's as he turned down the hall and another masked man exited the room behind him with a gun aimed at the back of his head. The second gunman had Devin's arm wrapped tightly in his hand and together they pushed their way down the hall towards Hotch, using Lindsay and Reid as a barricade.

"Drop your gun Agent and I let your friend live."

"I can't do that," Hotch shouted.

"Oh, I think you better."

The deep raspy voice came directly behind him and Hotch didn't have to turn to know he had a gun aimed at his head. He gave one last look between the terrified woman, andan anxious Reid before sighing and gently setting his gun on the floor. A strong set of hands were on him instantly, wrenching his arms behind his back and cuffing them together with his own set of cuffs.

"What do you want?" Hotch asked, wincing as the cuff dug into his wrist.

"Leverage," the voice rasped, "you're in the wrong place at the wrong time Agent."

"Who are you?" Lindsay cried out, "Please don't hurt my son."

"Shut up, go sit down," the man behind her pushed her forward into the living room.

Lindsay stumbled forward and stood in the center of the room, refusing to obey his command to sit. She looked quickly between her assailant and Hotch, "What the hell is going on?"

"We're gonna go for a little ride," the man next to Hotch rasped, and then pointed his gun at Lindsay, "You stay."

Reid was pushed forward by the barrel of the gun pressed into the back of his head and grabbed the scared boy's hand, pulling him up close to him as the man let his arm go. Hotch stepped forward slowly in the direction of the door. He struggled to see as much of each of the three men as possible, only noticing that the one who had been holding Lindsay walked with a slight limp. They moved with a quick organization that suggested training.

Hotch was the first out the door and was immediately met by an unmasked man who quickly dropped a black canvas bag over his head and spun him around. Hotch's breathing hitched when he heard stumbling from the doorstep he'd just come down and a burst of activity that deafened him.

Reid yelled out Devin's name, followed by loud running footsteps on the hardwoord. The boy screamed out for his mother and Hotch struggled blindly against the hands on his arms at the sound of a solid slap against skin. Lindsay screamed for her son and the whole world broke at the sound of a gun going off. Something solid came down on the back of Hotch's head and suddenly he was on his knees in the soft soil. He could hear muffled screaming and hands were on him, pulling him up, and then he was on his back. He felt movement around him and a hand over his shoulder before the solid ground below him started moving, swaying and bouncing him. He was in a vehicle, and they were moving. The last thought to cross his mind before his mind blacked out was that this was not such a good day after all.

* * *

><p>"Hey Baby Girl," Morgan greeted Garcia as he entered her office with a plastic wrapped sandwich, "Hear anything from Hotch?"<p>

"About an hour ago," she answered not looking away from her computer, "you won't believe the stuff I'm finding in these files Derek. When most kids were learning anatomy to pass a class in high school, this kid was learning it as a means to killing someone in the most effective way. It's very, disturbing."

"Anything tell us who he is yet?"

"Not specifically, but I want you to look at something for me. I'm still in the kids younger years, but something just doesn't look right to me."

Garcia brought up a video file of a young child sitting at a large table with pieces of what appeared to be an assault rifle of some sort strewn out across the wood. The kid moved quickly, grabbing each piece and slipping them together, expertly assembling the rifle and then taking it apart again.

"He's good with a gun," Morgan said, "we already knew that. What's bothering you?"

"Don't look at the gun, look at the kid,"

Garcia restarted the video and Morgan focused in as best as he could on the pixilated image. The child's hair was dark and standing on end from what appeared to be a botched up haircut. Garcia was right, something was off about the kid's appearance. His eyebrows were drawn together in concentration even though his eyes were closed, but the shape of his features and narrow neck made him appear almost feminine.

"Garcia can you zoom in and clear up the image?"

"I did, that's as close as I can get without it being to blurry to make out" she answered, "but you see it right. Besides the haircut and clothes? It's not just my mind playing tricks?"

"Call Hotch," Morgan's stomach turned, "tell him we made a mistake. We're looking for a woman."

Garcia moved to grab her phone just as her computer beeped and popped up a new file addition to the search she'd run. She frowned as she read the date on the file and looked back to Morgan.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning in to look over her shoulder.

"It's a new Archer file submitted to the system just now."

"How is that possible? Forester is dead."

Garcia double clicked on the file and watched curiously as rows and rows of text scrolled across the screen. Lists of names, dates, addresses, and bank account numbers flitted through documents and her heart stopped with a thud as the scrolling ended on a large headshot photo. The sharp blue eyes stared back at her with a coldness that chilled her to her core and she lost her ability to breathe. Morgan pulled himself from his shock first and slammed his hand down on the table before running out of the room to the bullpen. Garcia continued to stare at the photo, slowly regaining her breath as her heart moved blood back to her brain and Morgan ran back into the room.

"She's gone," he growled.

"Oh my god, Garcia shook as she grabbed her desk phone and punched the familiar numbers into the phone, praying her friend would answer it, "please pick up, please pick up."

"Hey PG," her friend's voice answered mid ring.

"Oh, thank God," Garcia gasped, wiping tears from her cheeks, "Where are you Emily?"

"What's the matter?" Emily's replied.

"Where are you?" Garcia repeated in a shrill voice.

"I'm at St. Elmo's having lunch with Cassi. What's going on?"

Garcia's heart stopped again and tears of frustration and fear dripped down her cheeks, "Get out of there Emily, do you hear me, get out now."

"What? Garcia, you're freaking me out a little here," Emily's voice shook.

"It's Cassi," Garcia croaked out, "Cassi is Archer."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Dun Dun Dunnnn! How many of you saw that coming, really? I'm sure one or two of you did. But who took Hotch and Reid and why? Still more twists to come. Click it and let me know what you think!<em>


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: Sorry for leaving you all on that cliff for so long, but admit it, it was fun! Initially I was only going to have two more chapters to finish off this story, but after this one took on a life of its own and was turning out to be much longer than I had anticipated, I decided to make it into three. Lucky you! So here it is. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p>"It's Cassi," Emily's eyes instinctively shot up to the woman sitting across from her, "Cassi is Archer."<p>

The sudden rush of adrenaline made Emily's ears ring, tuning out the frantic chatter through her phone's receiver, and she could do nothing but stare into the suddenly intense eyes of the woman in front of her. Pain radiated from her chest as her heart hammered against her bruised sternum, and her breathing stopped completely when her brain made sense of what had happened. Slowly she took in a breath, speeding time back to its natural pace and blinked, momentarily breaking eye contact. When she opened her eyes, Cassi was still watching her, and her eyes told Emily everything. She knew exactly what the phone call was about.

"…Police are on their way," Garcia's voice broke through the fog, "Do you hear me? For God's sake Emily, say something!"

"I'm alright Garcia," Emily forced her voice to work, and Cassi tilted her head curiously, "If she wanted to hurt me, I'd already be dead."

Emily hung up the phone before Garcia could respond and gave her full attention to the woman, who was now grinning at her.

"You never cease to surprise me Emily," Cassi shook her head, dropping her gaze to the table top.

"I could say the same," Emily winced, shifting in her seat. Her glock was in her purse, she could get to it, but there were too many people around. Too many unknown variables and Cassi obviously had a plan. Backup was coming. She could already hear faint sirens in the distance. She just needed to hold off until they got there, "Why?"

"We don't have time for why," Emily flinched as Cassi stood, moving around the table until she was leaning right next to her. Her voice was quiet and held an edge that made Emily freeze, staring straight ahead, "Your friends are in trouble. Don't bother going to Sikes, he'll get you nowhere. Find the boy, and you'll find your friends."

Emily blinked down at a worn out photo that Cassi quickly tucked under her hand on the table. The sirens were getting louder, and soon they would be swimming in police. Cassi pivoted and moved to leave and Emily's hand shot out instinctively to catch her arm. Cassi turned and looked at her, and Emily caught something in her eyes that was dangerous, but somehow knew it wasn't directed at her.

"I need to know why," Emily was surprised by the steadiness in her own voice, despite the hammering of her heart in her chest.

Cassi's features softened for only a second and she easily pushed Emily's hand from her arm, "I'm sorry."

Cassi pivoted, and moved quickly between the outdoor café tables, and disappeared around the corner of the building. Emily fought every instinct in her body telling her to stay put and wait for the cavalry, but she couldn't. Wincing as her sore muscles pushed against her broken ribs, she pushed herself to stand and moved as quickly as she could in the direction that Cassi has gone. She rounded the corner and was met by a small alley entrance that had been closed off by the local businesses with a tall brick wall. She swore, staring at the obstacle. Cassi would have had to scale it, which was something Emily was most definitely incapable of doing with her injured ribs.

The deafening sounds of sirens, screeching tires, and slamming car doors signaled the arrival of the police at the café around the corner. Emily stuck her gun back into her bag and stared down at the worn photo paper she still held in her hand. The boy in the image was cute, smiling from ear to ear with his arms wrapped around the little body of a golden retriever puppy with a bow stuck to its head. Cassi had said her team was in trouble. A knot formed in her stomach and she hurried back around the building, pulling her badge and cell from her jacket pocket. She was already dialing Garcia's number as she neared the table she'd been sitting at and a uniformed officer spotted her. She flashed her badge at him just as Garcia screamed through the phone at her.

"Emily Prentiss if you ever hang up on me like that again I swear to God I will,"

"Garcia!" Emily cut her off, "Are the guys alright? Please tell me the rest of the team is fine."

"They're fine?" Garcia paused, "why? What's going on?"

"Are they right there with you?"

"No, Morgan, Rossi and JJ are on their way there" Garcia answered, "and Hotch and Reid are out doing an interview with Foster's widow. Where is Cassi?"

"She's gone," Emily pushed her way through the startled crowd of diners toward a burly looking LEO standing next to a patrol car, "Call them back to the office, I'm fine and I'm on my way there. Call Hotch, make sure they're alright."

"Emily, what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know Garcia, just make sure the team is safe okay, please."

Garcia hung up to make her calls and Emily tapped the officer on the shoulder. He turned and his settled on the badge she flipped open in front of his face.

"I need a ride to Quantico."

* * *

><p>Hotch groaned as the throbbing in his head pulled him over the edge of consciousness. He could vaguely make out quiet voices chatting away somewhere next to him, but was distracted from trying to understand them the flip in his stomach. He took a deep breath of the mildew scented stale air and blinked against the cold concrete his face was pressed against. He made an attempt to roll over but his arms, bound behind his back, had gone completely numb.<p>

"Hotch," Reid's voice whispered nearby, "Hotch, you're awake. Are you alright?"

Hotch lifted his head from the concrete and squinted up into the dark. A few feet to his left he could make out the shadowy silhouettes of Reid's thin frame, sitting cross legged against the wall with his arms likewise bound behind him. Tucked up against the wall next to him sat Devin Foster, who stared back at him through the dark with wide eyes. Hotch took a deep breath, closed his eyes and flexed his back and chest, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He hissed against the stab of pain in his head and fought off the dizziness that threatened to drop him back onto his face. After it had subsided, he opened his eyes and cleared his throat to speak.

"Are you alright?" he asked to both of them.

"Yeah," Reid whispered back, "We're fine. You've been out for almost an hour though. I think you might have a concussion. One of them hit you over the head with something back at the house."

"Yeah Reid," he winced, "I remember. Any idea where we are?"

"No. They put bags over our heads. We couldn't see anything, but we were only in the vehicle for about twenty-seven minutes, and it was really bumpy."

Hotch nodded and wiggled his hands against the tight cable binding his hands and attempted to rub feeling back into his fingers. His mind was working overtime. He didn't understand what had happened. Who were these men and what did they want with the Foster family?

"Devin," Hotch spoke softly, hoping not to scare the boy any more than he already was, "did you recognize any of the men who took us?"

Devin's eyebrows pushed together on his forehead in deep thought and he slowly shook his head no.

"Are you sure?" Hotch prodded, "None of them that you may have seen with your Dad, maybe at work?"

"No," Devin whispered.

"Maybe there's something in the house they're after," Reid suggested, "of hidden on the property somewhere. Garcia said the Foster's home is on a four and a half acre lot. You saw the location, up in the woods, hidden."

"But what are they after?" Hotch quieted for a moment, thinking to himself, "Sikes wants Archer, but what do the Foster's have to do with all of this?"

"Archer?" Devin's small voice pulled Hotch from his thoughts and his eyes met with his, "how do you know about Archer?"

Both men stared dumbfounded at the boy for a split second before Hotch realized their mistake. Devin had not been in the room when he'd questioned Lindsay about Archer. He'd believed her when she denied knowing about him, but Devin was the one they should have been talking to.

"Devin, do you know who Archer is?" Hotch asked quietly. Devin shook his head no.

"Devin, Archer may have hurt a lot of people," Hotch spoke quietly, "We're trying to find him before he hurts anyone else. Do you know where he might be?"

Devin shook his head, "We only talk through my dad's old walkie talkie sometimes," he paused for a moment, thinking. "If Archer hurt people, it's because they were bad, and they hurt people first."

"So you don't think these men work for Archer?" Reid stretched his back and neck to peek over the half wall they were sitting against and eyed the two men sitting a few yards away playing cards.

"No," he said simply and pulled his knees up, hugging them to his chest, "Archer would never hurt my mom."

Hotch's eyes shot up to Reid as the memory of what happened at the house hit him. Beyond the darkness of the hood he'd heard Devin's feet running on the hardwood, Lindsay screaming his name, and then a gun had gone off. Reid's eyes looked hurt and gave Hotch a very slight shake of the head, telling him what he needed to know. Lindsay Foster had been shot, and Devin had witnessed the entire event.

"Devin, listen to me okay," Hotch leaned in toward the boy, "We aren't going to let anything bad happen to you alright. We have a lot of friends that are going to come and get us very soon."

Devin sniffed and swiped his hand under his nose before hugging his legs closer and setting his chin on the tops of his knees, "My Dad died. If my mom is dead too, where will I live?"

"I don't know buddy," Hotch confessed, "you're mom was telling us about Maggie. Maybe you could stay with her."

Devin's head shot up from his knees and he blinked up at Hotch, "You know my aunt Maggie?"

"Only just her name," Hotch answered, "I'd like to know more about her though. She sounds very interesting."

Reid watched the exchange between the scared boy and his boss curiously. It amazed him how easily Hotch could switch from the role of the Unit Chief, to the comforting role of a father, speaking to a child. He could physically feel the boy relax against his side when Hotch was talking to him, despite their situation.

"She's a lot like my Dad," Devin set his chin back on his knees, "I don't see her very much, but she always gives me stuff on Christmas. She gave me Bird."

"She gave you a bird?" Reid asked, looking down at the boy.

Devin laughed, "No, Bird is my dog. Maggie gave him to me for Christmas. My Dad said that Maggie really likes birds, so that's what we named him."

"Well, well, don't we sound cheery."

The deep rasping voice from the dark corner to their right made Hotch's blood freeze in his veins. It belonged to the man who'd been behind him in the house; the same man that had hit him over the head. Hotch turned and his eyes focused in the dark on now unmasked face of their captor. The man had deep set eyes and sharp jaw line covered in dark stubble and had a predominant scar across the bridge of his nose, giving him the rugged look of a mercenary. Hotch crossed his legs and pushed them up underneath him, pushing himself up onto his knees as the man took a few slow steps toward them.

"Who are you?" he asked, giving him his best scowl, "What do you want with us?"

The man laughed, "I don't want anything from you Agent. In fact, all I want is to get paid. To get paid, I have to deliver."

Hotch frowned, glanced to Reid and Devin and back up. Carefully, he pushed his feet up under him until he stood his full height in front of his assailant. From the corner of his eye, he could see the card game between the other three men had stopped and they were watching him.

"Who hired you?" Hotch asked, "What does he want with us?"

"Oh, don't be so vain Agent Hotchner," he stepped further into the light and Hotch could make out the Elite Security patch on his sleeve, "consider yourself a bonus."

Hotch stepped closer, making the men at the table stand and begin slowly stepping around in different directions, "What does Sikes want with the kid?"

The man smiled, making the scar on his nose crinkle, and he leaned in close enough for Hotch to smell the cigarettes smoke on his breath, "Sit down Agent Hotchner."

The man's fist connected solidly with Hotch's gut, and Hotch dropped to his knees with a grunt. He hunched over on his knees, setting his forehead against the concrete, struggling to catch his breath. The man lifted his large boot, and pushed it against Hotch's hip, toppling him over onto his bound hands. He laughed as Hotch coughed and then pointed toward Reid and Devin.

"Come on kid, we've got a phone call to make."

Devin tensed up and looked wide eyed to Reid, scooting closer and shaking his head frantically.

"Now!" The man's voice echoed off the walls throughout the large room, and Devin's unbound hands shot up to his ears.

"Devin," Reid nudged the boy with his elbow and he looked up at him with tear filled eyes, "Do what he says ok. I promise, we'll be right here when you get back."

Their captors didn't give them time to reason with the boy as one of the card players rounded the wall and grabbed him by his arm. Devin cried out, screaming that he didn't want to go, and the man had to physically pick him up to move him away. Reid shouted for them not to hurt him as Devin kicked and flailed in his arms, and they disappeared into a separate room with the slamming of a heavy door.

"Kids got spunk," another voice pulled their attention from the door that hid the boy from their few. One of the other card players leaned over with his elbows resting on the half wall behind Reid.

"He's just a kid," Reid accused.

"Relax Doc," the redhead walked around the wall, chewing on a toothpick, "Their not gonna hurt him. The boss needs him. You two on the other hand…"

He slid his pistol from his leg holster and aimed it in on Hotch's forehead and Reid's eyes went wide.

"Any last words Agent Hotchner?"

* * *

><p>"Emily, thank God," Morgan breathed out a whoosh of air when Emily stepped into Garcia's office, "What the hell happened?"<p>

Emily shook her head, brushing off his question, "Did you get a hold of Hotch and Reid?"

"I tried, it keeps going to voicemail," Garica confessed, "they were in an interview though, they probably put them on silent."

"No," Emily winced as she sat down in the chair JJ offered to her, "something is wrong. Morgan, you guys gotta go out there."

"Why?" Morgan asked, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Cassi," she stuttered over the name, "Archer, or whoever the hell she is, she said they're in trouble."

"Cassi played us Prentiss," Morgan warned, "we can't believe anything she says. She's probably trying to set us up."

"Why?" Emily argued, "None of it makes sense. She had us all right where she wanted us if she wanted to hurt us. There is something bigger going on here. Garcia, call them again."

"Emily, what exactly did Cassi say to you?" Rossi crouched down next to her.

"She said my friends were in trouble, and to find them, I have to find the boy."

"What boy?" JJ asked.

Emily hissed in pain as she moved too quickly, but ignored it to dig the photo out of her bag.

"She gave me a picture of a little boy," Emily flipped the photo around in her hand to show them, "she said I needed to find him."

"Garcia, you said the Fosters had a young son, what do we know about him?"

Garcia typed away at her keyboard and in seconds was reading off everything she could find.

"His name is Devin Alexander, born July 19th 2001 to Eric and Dana Foster."

"Eric Foster's wife's name is Lindsay," Rossi said.

"Yeah, says here that Dana Foster died on the day her son was born from complications during delivery. Eric married Lindsay a year later, and she adopted Devin as her own shortly after."

Emily listened to Garcia read off the information while staring down at the photo in her hand. Something familiar in the boy's eyes had struck the first time she'd looked at it, but as she learned more about him, everything began to make sense.

"We were wrong," she said quietly, drawing the attention from everyone in the room.

"Emily?" Morgan crouched down in front of her, concerned for the sudden change in her demeanor. When she'd walked in she was wound tighter than a top, but now, she seemed deflated and almost dazed.

His voice ripped her from her thoughts and she blinked up at him, "We were wrong," her voice was strong again, "Dana Foster never died on that table, she just changed her identity."

Emily flipped the picture around again for them to see, and she watched the truth sink in on all of their faces, "Archer wasn't out for revenge on Sikes. She's protecting her son."

* * *

><p>The SUV slid to a stop next to Hotch and Reid's vehicle in a cloud of dust in the dirt driveway of the Foster's home. Morgan and Rossi hopped from the open doors and drew their weapons, moving expertly around the abandoned SUV toward the house. They made their way quickly to the open door to the house and with a quick nod, they entered, shouting out to their friends.<p>

"I've got blood," Rossi shouted, eyeing the large red liquid pooled and smeared across the hardwood. Around the blood were various white bandage wrappers and boot prints.

"Clear," Morgan shouted back from the back bedrooms then walked back down the hall, pulling his cell from his pocket.

Garcia answered the phone with no witty remarks, merely a scared, "Derek?"

"They aren't here," he winced when she choked in his ear, "Garcia, there's blood here but it looks like someone got medical treatment. Run any 911 calls for the last few hours and see if any emergency services responded to this address."

A loud thump from the back room had both men drawing up their guns and moving quickly down the hall. Morgan led the way, pushing through the door to the boy's bedroom. He had cleared the room only moments ago, and there was nobody in it. What was that noise? A light scratching sound drew his eyes down to the bed and he caught sight of slight movement against the low hanging sheet. Slowly he crouched down, with Rossi covering him and lifted the edge of the sheet.

"Devin?" he called out gently.

A sudden flash of fur and a load growl had Morgan whipping his hand away, swearing at his near miss with the scared dog's teeth.

"It's a damn dog," he swore and pushed himself up, holstering his gun.

Rossi crouched down at the edge of the bed, and slowly lifted the edge of the sheet, wary of the low growling coming from underneath.

"Hey buddy," Rossi spoke quietly, careful not to make any sudden movement, "We aren't gonna hurt you."

"Just leave him there," Morgan groaned, "We'll send animal control for him later."

"He's got something there with him," Rossi was leaned over so far his face was nearly on the floor as he peeked at the dog, "It looks like a portable radio."

"A radio? Come on man, what would a dog want with a radio?"

The dog growled again.

"Morgan, your tone of voice isn't helping here," Rossi scolded and patted the floor, "It's okay. Come out here."

Morgan rolled his eyes and walked back into the living room, picked up his cell from where he'd dropped it and lifted it to his ear. Garcia was still on the other end, yelling at him to answer her and he instantly felt guilty for scaring her when she was already frazzled.

"We're fine Garcia, I'm sorry," he said, "We heard a noise we had to check out."

She let out a deep sigh, "God, don't do that to me anymore today. Between you and Emily I'm lucky I haven't keeled over from a myocardial infarction by now. While you were off chasing noises, I got phone records for the house. Paramedics responded to a 911 hangup shortly after I got off the phone with Hotch. They transported an adult female to the hospital with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. No news on her condition yet, but since Cassi, er Archer, was in D.C. with Emily at the time, it wasn't her."

"There was no one else with here with her?" Morgan asked.

"No, she was alone. What kind of noise did you hear?"

"What?"

"The noise that you heard and had to scare me to death while you checked it out, what was it?"

"Some thump in the bedroom. Turned out to be a dog hiding under the bed. Almost took my damn hand off."

"Well of course it did. Poor thing must be scared to death," Garcia replied, "FBI agents, gunshots, ambulances. You're bringing it back with you aren't you?"

"Garcia it's a dog."

"A dog that witnessed the entire thing!" Garcia argued.

"What are we supposed to do, question him?"

"Derek please, you can't just leave him there. He belongs to that little boy. When we save him, wouldn't it be better to have his dog here for him. You know, a familiar, comfortable thing."

Morgan sighed, he couldn't really argue with her logic, but the dog had nearly bitten his hand off. How were they supposed to get him out from under the bed? "I'll see what I can do Garcia. Rossi is tryin to get him out from under the bed now. We're gonna look around here for a bit and see if we can find anything. Dig up whatever you can on your end. If Emily is right, we have to find the boy to find Hotch and Reid."

* * *

><p>"They aren't there," Garcia said, turning in her chair to face JJ and Emily.<p>

Emily closed her eyes as disappointment flooded her. She thought for a second then opened her eyes and focused on the photo that Garcia had scanned into the computer. Devin Foster's smiling face looked back at her and all she could focus on was his sharp blue eyes that were his mother's. How had they missed it? She had been right in front of them for the entire week, and they had missed it. Guilt washed over her as her brain told her exactly how they had missed it. They had been so focused on Lambert, on protecting her, that a trained killing machine had been sitting next to them the entire time.

"It isn't your fault ya know," JJ spoke softly and Emily looked over at her, "none of us saw it."

"If you weren't all so focused on protecting me from Lambert, maybe we would have," Emily sighed.

"Oh stop Em," Garcia spun around in her chair, abandoning her search for a moment, "No one is to blame for this except Cassi, Archer, whoever she is. If you have to put blame on someone here, put it on me. I'm the one that brought her in and made her a part of this team. Me. Do you understand that? This is on me! But none of that matters now. All that matters is that we find that little boy and Hotch and Reid, and we end this!"

Garcia spun back in her chair, wiping at the tears that trailed mascara down her cheek and began typing away at her keyboard again. JJ looked to Emily, stunned by Garcia's sudden outburst. Neither of them said a word and JJ leaned over Garcia's back and wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

"It's not your fault either," JJ said, setting her chin on her shoulder.

Garcia let out a shaky breath and wiped at her cheeks again before patting JJ on the arm and going back her search. Emily diverted her eyes from her friends, not wanting to be an audience to Garcia's moment of weakness and stared down at the picture in her hands. She turned it over and read the cursive scrawl on the back reading _Devin & Bird 2009_ . Who named a dog Bird?

Morgan chose that moment to enter the room with Rossi behind him, leading along the large golden retriever. His eyes immediately flashed to JJ leaning over hugging Garcia and he became concerned.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, and JJ stood.

"We're alright," JJ answered quietly, "Tell us you found something other than a dog."

"Actually, we found this," Rossi lifted the portable radio in his hand, "it was clipped to the dog's collar, and it isn't one of ours."

"Whose is it?" Emily asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I tried to talk through it to see if anyone could hear me on the other end but…" He pressed the button on the side of the device and it let out a low tone beep.

"It's blocked," Garcia said matter of factly, spinning her chair to face him.

"Blocked?" JJ frowned.

"The frequency. It's probably programmed to a privately owned repeater tower and without logging in and clearing it, you can't use it."

"Logging in where?"

Garcia let out a deep sigh and extended her hand, "Let me see it."

Rossi set the radio in her palm and she spun back around to her computer. She quickly brought up another search bar and turned the device over and removed the battery. Without a word she typed in the radio's serial number into the search bar and two more windows popped up.

"Radio is programmed to 145.970 megahertz. The login is W4OVH but its password protected. Without the password, we can't use the frequency."

"Does it say who owns the frequency?"

Garcia clicked a few more keys, "Maggie Weston. Wait, I know that name. Hotch asked me to run it but I didn't get a chance with everything that's going on. He said she was a family friend of the Fosters."

"Run it now," Rossi directed.

"On it, but you might find this useful as well," Garcia looked up at Rossi, "there are only two radios registered to that frequency."

"Somebody clipped that radio to Bird's collar," Emily interrupted, "Whoever it was wanted us to be able to contact whoever has the other one?"

Having heard his name, the dog padded slowly across the room and sat down at Emily's feet, staring up at her with big brown eyes. She grimaced at the color of dark dried blood in his fur, but ran her hand over his head.

"I can answer part of that for you," Garcia replied, "One of them is registered to Maggie Weston, and the other to Eric Foster. You think Foster was stepping out on his wife?"

"Odd way to communicate with your mistress," Rossi replied.

Garcia smiled as she typed away at the keyboard, "Yes but these people seem to be into the Spy Games. Of course they would have an unconventional way to…"

The rest of the team peeked around her shoulders at what had stopped her mid sentence and were greeted with a familiar face, smiling back at them from a Virginia driver's license.

"Maggie is Cassi," Garcia gasped, "or Cassi is Maggie, I don't know but they are both Archer. God, how many people is she?"

"Garcia, can you trace the location of that other radio?" Morgan asked anxiously. Garcia nodded and typed away. "Hotch and Reid must have figured it out and left it where they knew we'd find it."

After a few seconds Garcia's computer beeped.

"Got it. She's right in the middle of the Seneca State Park," Garcia frowned, "There's nothing there. What is she doing?"

"Bring up a map of the area," Emily instructed, pushing herself to her feet, and bracing herself on the desk, "there has to be something there."

A map popped up on the screen a second later and Garcia shook her head, "Nothing. I ran the exact latitude and longitude that I picked up from her location, and according the Bureau of Land Management, there is nothing there. Whoa, wait a second, look at this."

Garcia tapped her finger on the screen and they all leaned in a little to read.

"It's not part of the park," Rossi read, "she's on private property. Garcia who owns…"

"Already on it boss, oh and would you look at that. Nine acres right in the middle of the national park belongs to none other than Elite Securities."

"Sikes' security company?" Morgan scowled, "Son of a bitch."

"It can't just be open land," Emily said, "these guys are smart. They have resources and they know how to cover their tracks. Sikes has been able to keep this covered up for thirty years. Hiding a small compound in the middle of the forest just by not filing the proper paperwork through the BLM wouldn't be hard."

"Ok, let's look at what they do have," Rossi reasoned, "They own Elite Securities, which has multiple international government contracts. That gives them access to all sorts of things; weapons, munitions, personnel, technology…"

"A satellite," Garcia blurted out, "I can get a satellite image of the area."

Garcia typed at lightning speeds as she hacked into system after system, losing all of them in the process. They waited patiently, giving her time to work. Wrapping her arm around herself, Emily carefully lowered herself back into her chair and let out a deep breath. As much as she hated being stuck at home, she would be more than happy to take some time off after this case.

"I'm in," Garcia beamed, "and what do ya know, it's not just an empty plot after all. I'm counting one big building and two smaller ones, sheds maybe."

"They would have security cameras," Morgan said, "Is it possible to hack into their camera system?"

"Depends on what kind of network their running on," she clicked a few keys and smiled, "Let's pretend for a moment that I'm not about to break the law and hack into a government satellite to find an electronic surveillance system shall we, and tahdah!"

The screen flickered and multiple oscillating images of dark empty rooms filled the screen. They squinted at each one, studying the outside of the brick building and then the inside rooms of the small fortress.

"Oh my god," JJ pointed.

Garcia clicked on the image and it blew up to full size mode just in time for them to watch two Elite uniformed men drag a kicking and screaming little boy from the room. Without audio they could only watch as one of the other men walked casually around the wall and towered over Hotch, who lay on his back and appeared to by catching his breath.

Morgan was already on his phone, making the call to the park service and every local agency that could send people out there. His eyes were glued to the screen as he gave the Manassas PD SWAT team the coordinates and when he saw the man on the screen raise his gun on Hotch, he couldn't speak.

Suddenly the screen went black, leaving all five of them gaping and in shock.

"What the hell just happened?" Emily's voice shook.

"I, I don't know," Garcia answered, "the feed is still running. It's just dark."

"She cut the power," Rossi was moving to the door quickly, "Keep monitoring it. She's got a plan. If we're lucky, we can get there before she gets anyone killed."

Morgan and JJ moved quickly, running out the door behind Rossi. Emily made no move to follow them. As much as she wanted to go, she knew her limits, and she had reached them. She would be more effective helping Garcia. She took a few steps forward and wrapped her arm around herself to sit down with only a slight hiss.

"What can I do?" she asked Garcia.

Garcia's head spun to her with wide, tear brimmed eyes, appearing shocked that she was still there, "I don't know. God Emily, for once I have all of this information in front of me, and I can't do anything with it."

Emily looked from her friend to stare at the now black screens, waiting and hoping for something to happen. What was going on in the building, in the dark?

* * *

><p>Hotch thought he was dead. He'd been staring down the barrel of a gun when a loud clunk echoed in his ears and the world went dark. The instantaneous sounds of yelling, shuffling feet and things crashing over corrected his first assumption and he rolled himself over, and hopefully out from under the aim of the gun. He quickly realized the action hadn't been needed, as the man holding the gun was now yelling into the dark and his voice was growing distant, followed by the footsteps and frantic voices of the other two card players.<p>

"Hotch?" Reid's voice was closer than he'd expected.

"I'm right here," Hotch whispered back.

"What's going on?"

"Someone cut the power. I need you to untie me."

Hotch spun on his rear, pushing his bound hands toward Reid's voice and Reid's foot crushed one of his fingers as he moved to do the same. In seconds they were sitting back to back and Reid's fingers were working on the knot around Hotch's wrists. The sound of automatic gunfire just on the other side of the wall stopped them dead, and they spun around to look.

"Hurry Reid," Hotch pulled at his binds, eyes sharp in the direction of the sound.

More footsteps ran along the outside of the wall, and another burst of automatic fire sparked flecks of light through the cracks under the door. Voices were yelling across the room, and three men ran by, directly in front of them with bouncing flashlight beams leading the way. Hotch froze, trying to make himself invisible, but none of them even glanced toward him. They were completely focused and the two agents were not even on their radar at the moment.

Three loud pops broke the night air and each of the three flashlights fell to the floor, dragged down by the falling men that held them, and suddenly everything was silent. Reid's fingers froze on Hotch's binds as neither dared to make a sound, listening with ears sharper than they had ever been. Hotch held his breath, listening to soft footsteps walking softly down the length of the wall directly in front of them, but they could see nothing. In the distance he could hear more yelling as the Elite guards regrouped and Hotch prayed that whoever was walking around in front of them, didn't know they were there.

As quickly as it they had appeared, the footsteps were gone, leaving them in silent darkness.

"What the hell is going on?" Reid whispered, hands moving again at Hotch's binds.

"I have no idea,"

Hotch's heart leapt up into his throat when a soft voice whispered directly in his ear, and a gloved hand dropped over his binds, "Where is the boy?"

Reid squeaked in surprise, and spun away from the sudden presence between them as Hotch felt a cold sharp steel against his wrist. With a quick tug, his hands dropped to the floor as his binds were cut and he squinted in the dark, failing to see who was behind them.

"Who are you?" he whispered, flinching as yelling voices echoed from near the opposite wall.

"It's Cassi," she whispered and moved to grab Reid, "Where is Devin?"

Before Hotch could respond, a loud thump flashed on the bright overhead lights, blinding them and making his head throb. Cassi hissed, pulling something away from her face and tossing it over the half wall with a crash, and rubbed her eyes. Hotch blinked against the harsh new light, and watched her quickly reach for Reid's hands, cutting his binds and tucking the knife into her boot.

"What are you doing here?" Reid asked, rubbing his wrists and pushing himself into a crouch similar to hers, "Where's the rest of the team? What are you wearing?"

Hotch had wondered the same thing upon focusing in the new light. She was clad in solid black from the bottoms of her combat boots to the top of her high collar, long sleeve shirt. If Hotch didn't know better, he would have mistaken her for one of the Elite Security guards, minus the patches on the sleeves. Despite her drastic change in attire, something else was off about her.

"I don't have time to explain, but Hotch I have to tell you, I'm not…"

The sharp sound of hands clapping slowly together stopped her from answering any of their questions as the scar faced man stepped around the wall with two armed men close at his sides.

"And what do we have here?" he rasped, tilting his head at Cassi, "I'm impressed."

"Where's Devin?" Hotch asked, worried. There had been a lot of gun fire, and he hadn't heard from the boy since the man in front of them had taken him away, "I swear to God if you hurt him…"

"Oh don't worry, he'll be along shortly," he smiled a malicious smile, "Let's show our guest some hospitality shall we,"

He nodded to the redheaded guard that had appeared behind them and he grabbed Cassi, pulling her roughly to her feet by the back of her hair, while the other two kept their automatic rifles trained on Hotch and Reid. Hotch bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to stay put as she winced and gripped at the hand in her hair, arching her back as he pulled her back toward his boss. Hotch's anger boiled over as the man ran his hand over Cassi's cheek, gripping her chin and glared at her before turning his smile back to the agents.

"Bring out the kid," he rasped, and Hotch could see Cassi tense.

The heavy door that they had taken Devin behind creaked open, and after a few seconds the guard stopped with Devin a few feet away from the group. The redhead turned, letting go of Cassi's hair and shoving her toward the boy and Devin's eyes went wide.

"Maggie!"

Devin ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face into her stomach. Cassi dropped down onto one knee and returned the hug. Reid's jaw gaped as the overload of information struck him directly in the face. He glanced to Hotch, whose face remained unreadable, but he knew from years of working with him, that Hotch understood too. They'd been fooled, and used. Cassi Maddox didn't exist.

Cassi pushed the boy away from her, conveniently moving him between herself and Hotch. Devin sniffed back tears, trying hard to be brave like his father had taught him.

"Maggie, are we gonna die?"

Cassi shook her head and flashed him a smile, "No kid, we're not gonna die." She pulled him close into another hug and whispered into his ear, "they are."

"Awe, I'm all choked up," rasped the scar face, "but I'm all reunioned out."

The redhead pulled Cassi back up to her feet, shoving Devin back further toward Hotch. The man with the scar slid his sidearm from the holster on his thigh and lifted it level with the back of Cassi's head. Hotch fought every nerve not to jump and grab Devin, to protect him from what he was about to see, but the calmness on Cassi's face held him in place.

"Devin," her voice was soft and steady, "Close your eyes baby."

Devin's eyes slid closed obediently, and her eyes flashed up from Devin to Hotch, and he noticed the change in them immediately. In an instant Cassi was gone and he knew he was looking at someone entirely different. This was Archer, and her eyes were telling him exactly what was going to happen.

A sudden loud shout of his name directly behind him made him jump, and he used the momentum to grab Devin, pulling him to the ground and wrapping himself protectively around him as a blast of the gun echoed through the room, and the group in front of them erupted in violence.

* * *

><p>"I'm in!" Garcia's excited shout brought Emily's attention from petting the dog at her side, "I've got full access to the power grid. The guys are about fifteen minutes out still. What do I do?"<p>

Emily thought for a minute, if they turned on the lights, they could interrupt Cassi's plan. If they didn't, they had no idea what was happening inside, and the team would be going in blind. Either decision could prove to be fatal for Hotch and Reid. She took a deep breath, and made a decision, praying it was the right one.

"Turn the lights back on."

Garcia clicked a button and all of the blank images popped up new video images, brighter than they had been before. They immediately focused in on the screen where the gunman had had Hotch when the lights went out, and Emily sunk into her chair, relief draining her completely as she saw Hotch was not only alive, but upright and moving, with Reid and Cassi right at his side. Her relief was only short lived when all three of their heads spun around and a group of Elite uniformed men walked up on them.

Emily quickly speed dialed Morgan on her phone and let them know what she was seeing. Morgan acknowledged the new piece of information, and hung up to pass it along. They now had eyes on the room, but they also had hostages. Emily eyed the screen, studying each new detail that she could see. Two of the cameras panning along the exterior of the building showed casualties. Men in dark uniforms lying in the now lit rooms, some slumped over in their chairs where they had been sitting when the assassin had surprised them. She felt bile rise in her throat as it sunk in just how dangerous the woman was, and how easily she had infiltrated them.

She glared at the woman angrily through the camera screen, as a redheaded guard dragged her to her feet. That extra glance revealed a detail that made Emily's breath hitch.

"Garcia, we need to hack into that radio," she tapped on the screen.

When the guard had lifted her up, Emily caught sight of the quick movement of her hand, as it slid the device behind Hotch. It was the other radio. She had had it on her the whole time. They could use it as a diversion.

Garcia brought up their previous screen and stared at the blinking cursor in the password box. Guessing, she typed in the word _Archer _and it came up denied.

"Course it couldn't be that easy," she turned to Emily, "this is gonna take longer than they have here Emily."

"Eric Foster has been dead for over a year," she stood, "maybe she was using it to communicate with Devin."

Garcia typed in Devin's name and it denied her again. She shook her head.

"It has to be something simple," Emily thought aloud, pacing the room and chewing on her thumbnail, "something that Devin could remember."

"Emily," Garcia's voice shook and Emily turned to see the guard leading the boy over to the group, and the two armed men were moving dangerously toward Hotch and Reid. The men were expendable now that they had Archer. Emily turned her head away from the screen, forcing her brain to hurry and caught sight of the dog.

"Bird!" she yelled at Garcia picked up the radio while the dog perked at his name, "try Bird."

"That's not it," Garcia was shaking now, adrenaline coursing through her.

Emily shut her eyes, letting every memory of every conversation she'd had with Cassi flash over her. In their hotel room, she'd told her about her childhood. She'd lived away from civilization. She was homeschooled. Her father taught her everything. Her father liked birds. Emily's eyes shot open wide. The tattoo on her back.

"Emily!"

The guard was pulling his gun and moving it up to the back of Cassi's head.

"Falcon! It's a falcon!" Emily shouted.

Garcia typed it in, and the radio in Emily's hand beeped. She was in. She lifted it to her mouth, keyed it up, and yelled as loud as her injured chest would allow.

"Hotch!"

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: Annnnd Scene. Whew, what do ya think? Click it and let me know!<em>


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's Note: I suck I know! I made you all wait over a month for this one, I'm sorry! The real world kicked my ass over the last month and I am finally able to sit down and breath for a bit. As long as you've been waiting, I've not been writing, so I am a little rusty. I apologize. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Thank you so much for your patience. Read on!_

* * *

><p>Cassi stared down at the boy in front of her. His sharp blue eyes and deep dimples were carbon copies of her own, but the rest of him was his father. From his sandy brown hair with the cowlick in the back, right to the way he looked at her with affection. It had been Eric's curious nature and optimistic smile that had drawn her to him from the day they'd met. Devin had that same smile.<p>

She gave the boy a reassuring nod and he obediently let his eyes slide shut. Satisfied, Cassi shifted her eyes from Devin to the intense scowl of Aaron Hotchner. She could feel the movements of the men behind her and Reid's nervous expression told her that whatever was happening beyond her peripherals wasn't good. The time to act was closing in fast and she hoped Hotch understood what she needed him to do. She pleaded with him silently, watching him frown in response as she began her mental countdown.

_One_. She broke eye contact with Hotch to let her own eyes close, taking a deep breath to slow time and calm her nerves. As her heart rate slowed, her senses compensated for her lack of vision. Her hyperaware ears alerted her to the telltale sound of metal on plastic as the scar-faced guard slid his gun from the holster on his thigh.

_Two_. She blinked, making one last visual plea to Hotch, then motioning to Devin with her eyes. She took another deep breath, effectively slowing the world around her in a technique she had used for years. The metallic rack of the bullet sliding up into the firing chamber of the Beretta near her right ear was deafening. She ignored it, fighting the adrenaline coursing through her, flexing her hands in anticipation, and cocked her left foot onto her toes.

Scar-face was close. She could feel him moving behind her. The redhead was to her left and the two other guards from the card table were beyond him and to the right. She would have to act fast, and with Devin and the agents so close, she'd have to be more accurate than ever. If she failed, they were all dead.

"Hotch!"

Emily's static riddled shout from the radio made the final count for her. Hotch jumped from the sudden sound and pushed himself away from the wall, enveloping Devin in his arms and spinning back down to the floor.

Cassi moved with a lifetime of training guiding her as she spun on her toes. She caught the startled brute behind her by surprise and forced the gun away from her head with a solid strike to his wrist. He howled as the damaged nerves squeezed down on the gun in a spasm. Her ears rang as the bullet meant for her head broke through the concrete wall across the room. She gave him no time to react, following through with a solid right hook. The brass knuckles wrapped tightly under her glove gave her the extra oomph she needed to drop him.

She used his falling momentum to pivot, grabbing his gun in her own and pushed her back into his chest. She lifted his arm up and forced his finger down onto the trigger, dropping both of the card table guards with four close proximity shots. Scar-face recovered from her initial punch and moved his other arm in attempt to headlock her. She returned the favor with a quick elbow strike to his face and released his gun hand so he could fall.

As she moved away, she caught movement to her right. Reid was crouched low and reaching for Devin, who Hotch was pushing forward to move around behind the wall. The momentary distraction was all the redheaded guard needed. He struck out with his rifle stalk, catching her right above her right ear, splitting her scalp and dropping her to her knees. He took advantage of her daze and followed through with a kick to her ribs.

She rolled with the kick, wincing at the crack it produced and reached for her boot. Her hand wrapped around the smooth hilt of the knife she'd hidden there after cutting the ropes from Hotch and Reid's wrists.

"Bitch!" Scar-face was back on his feet, holding his bleeding nose.

The redhead laughed and moved forward again, handing his boss the gun from his hip as the stalked toward her.

"Hey you!"

Both guards spun toward the forgotten agents and Reid quickly dropped back down behind the wall. He'd heard Cassi's pained cry at the kick and had taken it upon himself to create a distraction. For that she owed him.

She shot up from her knee, lashing out at the redhead. The blade sank in deep against his gut and she spun, pushing it up toward his shoulder as she moved. He let out an animalistic scream and staggered. She ripped the steel from his chest and swung high with a grunt of effort on her broken rib. She brought it down hard, sinking the blade straight through the center of the scar across the remaining guard's nose.

The man gurgled, twitching under her hand as he dropped limply to his knees. Blood came in spurts around the edges of the blade as she glared down at him. She fought to catch her breath as he slowly stopped moving and the ringing in her ears died down. She released the knife slowly, fighting to push down the familiar nausea before turning back to the redhead writhing on the concrete. She stepped over him, picking up a discarded pistol before towering over him. He choked, sprinkling blood across his face and pushed at the growing puddle beneath him with his feet as if he could slide himself away from the pain. She lifted the gun, not at all surprised by how steady her hand was and fired, using the final round to end the suffering of the animal that had tried to kill her. Forester would have been disappointed.

* * *

><p>Hotch held Devin tightly to his chest, holding his hand tightly over the boys head, pinning his ears between his hand and chest. Reid was crouched next to him and Hotch could tell he was fighting the urge to peek over the wall at the suddenly silent room. They both flinched when Cassi stepped around the edge of the wall. Her hands and chest were wet from what he could only assume was blood and for a moment he was thankful she was wearing black.<p>

"We have to go," she said quickly, "now."

Hotch stared at her for a second as she wiped at the thin stream of blood that had dripped down her face from a gash above her ear.

"Where is the team?"

"They aren't here," she crouched down next to Devin, "Someone heard those shots Hotch. I know you don't trust me, but we can't fight the shit storm that's headed our way."

He nodded and released Devin, who moved to hug Cassi. She stopped him before he came in contact with any of the blood on her clothes and winced when her gloved hand left a smear across his wrist. The boy didn't seem to notice. Hotch motioned to Reid and stood up. He was shocked by the scene on the other side of the wall. The entire ordeal had taken less than two minutes, but all four Elite guards were dead. He'd felt the concussions of the gunshots that had been fired within feet of them, but he hadn't prepared himself for the sight of a half gutted man, and a knife protruding from another's face.

"Maggie, you're bleeding." Devin had spotted the new trickle of blood on her face and connected it to the smear on his wrist.

Hotch turned to the voice of the boy and the woman crouching in front of him. Maggie? Cassi? Archer. Who was this woman?

"I'm alright kiddo," she smiled, "it's just a scratch."

"Hotch?" The radio back on the other side of the wall squawked, "Reid?"

Hotch hurried around the wall and scooped up the device, "Prentiss, we're alright. Where are you?"

"I'm at the BAU with Garcia. We have control over the compound's surveillance system and can see you. Rossi, Morgan and JJ are almost there. There's a SWAT team about four minutes out and waiting for orders. Hotch…"

Emily's transmission cut off and he knew she was trying to figure out what to say. He hadn't seen exactly what had happened on the other side of the wall while trying to protect Devin from it, but Emily and Garcia had watched it all.

"I know," he answered and stepped further away, lowering his voice and turning down the volume of the radio, "She fooled us all."

"Hotch, the guards outside are organizing." Emily's voice was stronger, "Garcia was able to get into their computer system and found a roster for the morning. Seventeen signed in but there's only ten left."

Hotch was silent, letting her words sink in. Ten men could be pouring in on them at any moment, but Hotch couldn't wrap his mind around the other half of the equation. The other seven men had been taken out by the woman he'd spent the last week working with. Seven lives lost in mere minutes. How had they not seen it in her?

"Hotch," Cassi's voice was quiet as she stood behind the wall, "we have to go."

"They're already organizing outside," he answered, "we need a plan."

"I'll create a diversion and you guys get Devin out of here."

"No, we stay together," he scowled, "Prentiss, can you lead us away from them?"

"No," Emily answered, "not without a fight. They've got your exits covered."

"Hotch please," Cassi motioned for Devin to stay down and walked around to him, "You need a diversion and Devin needs you to get him out of here safely. They're after me, not you."

Hotch thought for a moment, brain searching between the carnage of Elite guards and the boy. Cassi was right; they couldn't just walk out together. He also knew that once she was out of his sight, she'd be gone for good and the Archer case would go cold. He would be letting a serial killer walk away.

"Prentiss," he turned his back to Cassi, "we need a diversion. Can you help us out?"

The radio was silent for a few minutes and Cassi walked away with a nod, giving him privacy again. Just as he was about to repeat himself, worried that they'd lost connection, Emily's voice broke the silence.

"The power grid is showing elevated levels from the opposite end of the compound. Garcia thinks it's the electrical room. If you can shut it down, it'll take out all of their communications. They won't be able to talk to each other."

"Listen Prentiss," Hotch lowered his voice, "I'm sending Cassi to the electrical room. I want Garcia to talk her through the shut down but more importantly, keep tabs on the radio. She's going to run."

"I know. Just get away from the building and to the tree line. The SWAT team will be waiting."

Hotch finished and rejoined the small group.

"Cassi, there's an electrical room on the other end of the compound," he explained, handing her the radio, "Garcia is gonna walk you through shutting it down."

"And what," she grimaced, "you'll all just wonder through the dark?"

"You said it yourself, they aren't after us. We'll hunker down until you kill the power. Without their communications and no lights, we can get by them. We only have to get to the trees."

"Take the radio," she pushed it back toward him, "Emily can guide you around the guards. I can find the electrical room and just shoot out the generators."

"And blow yourself up in the process. You got in here in the dark; how?"

Cassi's eyes registered his thought. Her night vision goggles. She'd forgotten about them after being blinded by the returning light and tossing them aside. She stepped past Reid and Devin crouching near the wall and located the headset. She retrieved it and handed it to Hotch.

"Once you shut it down, they won't be able to see anything to direct us where to go anyway," he reasoned, "take the radio. Garcia will talk you through shutting it down without killing anyone."

Cassi stared directly into his eyes and for a moment he was worried she could read right through him. Instead, she nodded and took the radio. Hotch moved over and bent down to remove the guns from the two guards he'd seen at the card table earlier. Both had been shot before they'd even gotten their weapons free from their holsters. He grimaced and handed one of the guns to Cassi.

"Just don't shoot me in the back," he said as she took it.

"I guess I deserve that," she frowned, and looked back to where Reid was still keeping Devin behind the wall and away from seeing the scene around them, "Just get him out of here okay. Please?"

He nodded and watched her turn to leave and despite the beast that had reared its ugly head in her only minutes ago, he began to understand her. If it were Jack, would he be capable of the same horrible acts in order to protect him? He had told Garcia only days ago that it wasn't up to them to justify the actions of their UnSubs. He couldn't do it with Cassi either because regardless the time they'd spent together, or her motives, he had no idea who she was or what she was capable of. She was the true definition of UnSub, and she was dangerous.

* * *

><p>Emily watched Cassi walk away from group and exit the frame on the computer in front of her. She winced and lowered herself into the seat next to Garcia. Cassi appeared in the shadows of a different camera and Emily watched as she pulled something from her cargo pocket and plugged it into the radio in her hand.<p>

"Emily, can you hear me?" Cassi's voice was quite over the radio speaker. She'd plugged in an earpiece.

"You're clear," Emily answered, "There are two guards outside the south door, but you might be able to squeeze through one of the windows on the opposite side without them even seeing you."

"I'm assuming Penelope brought the lights back on," Cassi whispered as she moved quickly toward the south wall, "Tell her to shut them back off."

"We won't be able to guide you in the dark," Emily argued, "Only the exterior cameras are fitted with night vision."

"Do it anyway." she said with a grunt, "Hotch is better hidden in the dark. I got myself in here, I can get myself out."

Emily chewed at her bottom lip nervously as she mulled over their options. Garcia stared at her, waiting for her order. For a moment Emily wondered when she'd become the one in charge of making all the decisions that could either save, or kill her friends. She didn't like it, and she would gladly hand the responsibility back to Hotch as soon as possible. Cassi urged her on with a simple, "_Emily?"_ and she nodded to Garcia.

"Do it."

Garcia took a shaky breath and clicked a few keys on her computer. In an instant, all of their interior cameras went dark and they were blind. The guards on various exterior cameras shuffled and moved around, alerted by the sudden darkness inside the room. They were getting antsy. Soon they'd bust into the room, guns blazing.

"They're moving Cassi," Emily spoke into the radio, watching the two guards on the opposite side of the door Cassi had been standing at. They'd stacked up behind the door, and Emily could tell they were preparing to move in.

Cassi was suddenly around the outside corner, walking quickly up behind them. She must have slid out through one of the small windows set high up on the wall, and neither guard had seen her. She lifted the gun in her hand and Garcia turned her head away from the screen while Emily simply let her eyes close for a moment. They'd seen enough death at her hands only minutes before, but defending yourself against the men holding you at gunpoint, and shooting two men in the back was different.

Emily sighed and blinked, forcing away the guilt that consumed her. She told herself that if they'd made it into the room, Hotch and Reid would be dead. Cassi pushed the door open and pulled both limp guards into the room before closing the door and looking up toward the camera.

"I'm out," Cassi spoke, slightly out of breath, over the radio.

_No kidding._ Emily thought to herself and glared at the screen.

"Which building is the electrical room?" Cassi asked. She was crouched down against the wall, and Emily could tell she was preparing to make a run for it.

"Building to her left," Garcia croaked, focusing back on the satellite images in front of her.

Emily relayed the information while searching the other exterior cameras for the remaining eight Elite guards. It didn't appear that any others had attempted to enter the building, but some were moving around to the south of the building. They'd heard Cassi's shots and were closing in.

"You have to move," Emily directed, "you've got incoming."

"That's the point," Cassi replied and took off running across the short field toward the electrical room.

Garcia and Emily both held their breath as she disappeared from the camera screen. They picked her up in the distance on another screen as she sprinted across the field. She'd been spotted halfway across, and the guards opened fire. She vanished again, and for a few seconds they lost her in all of the cameras. Just as Emily was about to speak into the radio, she reappeared in the camera off the door of the electrical room. By a miracle, she made it to the building and flashed past the camera at a dead run and crashed through the door. Bullets ricocheted off the walls around the camera and the video died. They'd hit the camera.

"Did she make it?" Garcia asked without breathing.

"I'm in," Cassi's pained, breathless voice had them breathing again; "Hotch should be able to get out now. I'd say the guards are pretty well diverted."

"Are you hit?" Emily wasn't sure why she cared, but she asked anyway.

"I'm fine," Cassi's responded quickly, "where is the panel?"

Garcia pulled up the page and Emily noticed the small light bounce around in the darkened camera inside the electrical room. Cassi had a flashlight. Garcia grabbed the radio from Emily and keyed it up.

"There should be a section of large electrical boxes directly to your left. Go around behind them and there should be a panel there."

They sat in silence for a few seconds, waiting and watching the small beam of light reflect off the sides of the metal boxes and disappear behind them.

"Okay I got it."

"You should be looking at about fifteen different switches for the circuit breakers. If you're lucky they'll be labeled. We'll probably lose our visual from the exterior cameras but it shouldn't really matter. All you have to do is…"

Suddenly all of the video feeds died and Garcia and Emily were left in silence, staring at black screens.

"She already did it." Garcia said to herself and turned to look at Emily.

Emily swore and grabbed the radio back from Garcia, "she knows exactly what she's doing."

"She played us again?" Garcia squeaked.

"Cassi," Emily spoke into the radio, "you did it. The guards are still outside, but the SWAT team is moving in, just sit tight."

Emily pointed at the phone frantically and Garcia picked it up, quickly dialing and giving the order to the SWAT team to move. They had no idea where Hotch and Reid were at with the boy, but they knew what was left of the Elite guards, and their Unsub were all near the electrical room. If they moved fast, they could grab her before she ran. Suddenly the camera feeds were back up as were the lights.

"What happened?" Emily turned to Garcia.

"I don't know," Garcia answered, "They must have a backup generator but why would she turn it on?"

Garcia stopped mid sentence as her computer let out a loud beep. She clicked at the screen and her eyes went wide. They power grid current she'd been watching earlier was suddenly off the charts and growing. Every volt of electricity was being drawn to the electrical room.

"Garcia," Cassi's voice was rushed, "where are the guys?"

Garcia and Emily's eyes went straight to the now brightly lit video feed inside the electrical room. Cassi was crouched down in front of a large panel with her small flashlight held between her teeth, lighting the insides of it while she pulled at wires.

"What is she doing?" Emily repeated Garcia's question.

"She's overloading the circuits," Garcia said, watching the rising levels climbing on her screen, "she's gonna blow it up if she doesn't electrocute herself first."

"Damn it," Emily pushed herself to her feet to lean closer to the screens, ignoring the ache in her body and searched the cameras, "I don't see the guys anywhere."

"Maybe they made it to the trees already," Garcia offered.

The lights in the room flickered and some of the camera feeds turned to snow. Emily reached across Garcia for the phone and hit speed dial. She waited, praying that Morgan would answer. He picked it up on the third ring.

"What do ya have Baby girl," he spoke quickly, "We're just coming up behind the electrical room."

"Morgan," Emily shouted into the phone, watching Cassi stand and move quickly out of sight, "get away from the electrical room now!"

"Emily? Why, what's going on?"

"It's going to blow Morgan. Go!"

Morgan swore and she heard him shouting for JJ to move before the phone went dead and left them in silence, staring at the silent screens just moments before the image burst with bright white and all of the camera feeds dissolved into static. Garcia covered her face with her shaking hands, staring in shock at the useless screens. Emily forced herself to swallow and dropped the phone before sinking down to her chair, exhausted. There was nothing else to do but wait and pray.

* * *

><p>Cassi rolled and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and turned back to look at the smoldering cinderblock behind her. She could still feel the heat of the blast on her back and imagIned her shirt steaming from the sweat she'd worked up. Four of the Elite guards that had chased her into the building were lying lifelessly near the flames. They were the unlucky ones that had been too eager to get to her and had gone up with the building. She herself had broken out through a ventilation window and made a run for the trees. It had blown faster than she thought it would. Electrical explosions were always more unpredictable. She preferred good old fashioned fire and explosives with timers.<p>

She pushed herself up to her knees, wincing. She hadn't taken a beating like that since her time with Forester and she hadn't been shot in years. She sat back on her feet and pressed at the wound in her shoulder. The bullet had gone in just outside the barrier of her vest, traveled through her shoulder but failed to breach through the back of the Kevlar. She groaned as she rotated her arm. The wound would be a bitch to treat herself. A hospital would ask too many questions, and her face would likely be all over the news for months.

She carefully unclipped the radio from her belt and stared at it. The device had been the only contact she'd had with Devin for years. She kept it with her all the time and he would call her to tell her about the exciting things that happened during the day or just to talk when he was supposed to be in bed but couldn't fall asleep. She'd visited the family on the occasional holiday, or just stop in once in awhile, but after Eric was killed, the radio had been their sole communication.

Devin had been asking about his father a lot lately. Lindsay had told him that he was the man of the house now, and Devin was worried about not being able to protect his mother. He was like his father in that sense. Even as a boy, Eric Forester had defied his father to sneak out to the little block shed that she called home and would spend hours just talking to her. He would tell her about his school and his family and she would listen and imagine herself in the places he described. As they got older and Forester began to use her for actual operations instead of training, Eric became her real teacher. Without knowin it, he had taught her all of the good things in life that Forester purposely avoided. Forester strived to create a cold hearted killer, and if it weren't for his only son, he would have succeeded. But Eric had become her conscience and the one person that kept her grounded and showed her the world wasn't just there for her to destroy. He was her only friend, and eventually the father of her child.

She'd been terrified when she found out she was pregnant. Of course Eric had been thrilled. It was his natural optimism that she still to this day didn't understand. She on the other hand known that it wouldn't work. They couldn't keep it from his father forever and her deepest fear was for her son to become another candidate for the Archer project. So they covered it up as long as they could and then she ran. Eric changed his name and Devin was born, but she knew Forester would never stop looking for her. She couldn't lead him to Devin, so against all of Eric's arguing, refusing and pleading, she created the documents they needed and said goodbye.

She knew that Forester would send someone to search for them, so she checked in every once in a while to make sure they were safe and had somehow become a 'family friend' that never called. Then one year for Christmas, Eric gave her the radio. At first she'd laughed at him, but the first time Devin had called her out of the blue, she couldn't put it down. He'd called her late at night, scared from a nightmare he'd had but was too ashamed to wake his parents. So she'd made up a story about an archer who watched from afar and would never let anything bad happen to him.

She sighed, turning the dirty, beat up radio over in her hands. His Archer had failed him. Bad things had happened to him. His father was dead, his mother was fighting for her life in the hospital, and he'd been kidnapped, all because she couldn't stay away.

She blinked at the tears threatening her eyes, and swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself back to the present. In the distance she could see the SWAT team moving in, and let out a deep, relieved breath when she made out the silhouettes of Devin and the two agents being swept safely toward the trees across the field by a small group of armed police. With a twinge of sorrow, she dropped the radio to the ground and moved to push herself to her feet. She grunted at the pain in her rib and shoulder and turned only for the air to catch in her throat as her eyes narrowed on the barrel of the gun aimed at her head.

Her short trip down memory lane had shut her mind down completely from the world around her and she hadn't even heard Morgan and JJ sneaking up behind her. Now she stared straight down his gun and she could tell by the clenching of his jaw and furrow in his brow that he wouldn't hesitate in pulling the trigger. She didn't want to fight him. She liked Morgan, and she was tired of fighting.

"I should've known Garcia would track the radio," she said with a light laugh.

"Turn around and keep your hands where I can see them," Morgan ordered through clenched teeth.

Cassi complied, turning her back to him slowly and showing no signs of the pain that shot through her arm as she lifted her hands to her head. Morgan was on her in a flash, wrenching her hands behind her back and securing them together in the cold steel cuffs he always wore at his back. Her instincts told her to fight, but she knew JJ's gun was still set on her. She knew the night would be end of her either way. She'd been more surprised that she'd actually lived through it long enough for them to arrest her. All of her initial plans had ended with a bullet in her head, but as long as Devin was safe, they were solid plans.

Morgan spun her around and JJ tucked her gun back into her holster and stepped over to her other side. Together they led her back the way they'd come, through the trees.

"Who the hell are you?" Morgan asked. It wasn't that the answer was important, he just needed to know.

Cassi shrugged. It was a loaded question that she didn't have an answer for. She wasn't trying to be defiant, she simply didn't know. They walked in silence until they hit a small dirt road, which was now flooded with flashing police lights and men in SWAT gear. Rossi stepped around a vehicle and spotted them, shaking his head at her.

"Might wanna have a medic look at her before they take her in," Rossi pointed at the blood on her head. The bullet in her shoulder was concealed by the vest she wore and it was impossible to tell where her blood started and the Elite guard's blood ended. She was a mess, but she wouldn't tell them that.

"Maggie!"

Devin pulled away from Reid's arms and ran toward them. Rossi caught him and motioned for Reid to come and take him. Devin looked up at him in tears and pulled, but Rossi held tight. Cassi turned her head away from the struggling boy and fought to tune out his screams of the name he knew her by. He was scared and she was the only familiar face, but he didn't understand. She prayed that he never did.

"Morgan?" JJ's voice was quiet and when Morgan looked at her, she motioned with her head to the back of SUV.

He nodded and they led Cassi away from the boy and behind the vehicle. She let out a sigh and thanked them even as she could hear his cries fading as Reid led him off in the opposite direction. They stood in silence for awhile, even when a medic cleaned up the cut on her head and she told him the blood on her chest and back wasn't hers.

"I know why you did it," JJ said quietly.

Cassi looked up at her and could read her like a page in parenting magazine. JJ was a mother and a very protective one at that. But she'd been raised to trust, and surrounded by people to help her. Until meeting this group of profilers, Cassi had never trusted anyone with Devin.

"Why didn't you just ask us for help?" JJ continued.

Cassi stayed quiet. There was no amount of explaining that would make a difference. She was a killer, and they hunted killers. It was as simple as that. By the time she could trust them, she was already too deep. They were on her trail before she had even met them. She had to finish, to protect Devin, and then she would leave them all to recover and move on. There was just one more piece she needed to place, and then it would all be over.

Once the medic was finished with her head, they walked her to a patrol vehicle and she let them push her into the caged in back seat. Her hands fit perfectly into the hard seat, molded specifically for prisoners wearing handcuffs and she laughed at the irony. She'd been a criminal for her entire life, but she had never been in the back of a police car.

She turned to look up at Morgan, Rossi and JJ and gave them a small shrug, "I'm sorry."

Without a word, Morgan shut the door in her face and the car pulled away. Cassi watched them disappear and focused on the trees passing the windows as the car bounced down the dirt road. She sighed and studied the agents in the front seat. She was glad that none of the BAU agents had fought to transport her themselves. Half of their team was out of commission and she didn't want to talk, just as much as they didn't want her to. The conversation with Emily over the radio and the sight of them through the grimy police car window was the last she'd ever see oF them.

The car cleared the dirt road and hit pavement nearly fifteen minutes later, and she groaned against the pain in her shoulder. The Agent in the front seat turned to look at her curiously.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

"I've got a bullet in my arm Agent Parks," she winced, "I think you're facility would be more suitable for me don't you?"

Parks turned in his seat to look at her and grinned.

"Agent Parks," their driver whispered, "Sikes is at that facility. We can't take her there."

"Our facility is closer and has a staffed infirmary," Parks argued, "The lady has a bullet in her arm. I think we can make an exception."

The junior agent nodded and focused back on the road as Parks turned to her and gave her quick wink. She grinned and turned to peer back out the window. Just one more target.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: I hope it as worth the wait. I'm working on the next chapter now, and it will be the final chapter. Thanks for sticking with me and your reviews are Greatly appreciated.<em>


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's Note: Okay folks, here it is. The final Chapter of my crazy rollercoaster story. I hope all enjoyed the ride and will stick with me through the next one! Special thanks to all of my reviewers, you all keep me motivated and give me half of my ideas! Also special special thanks to kp4377 and Shadpup for letting me bounce ideas off of you, and for telling me when my ideas stink. HGRHfan35, you write the best reviews and I've taken much away from them to incorporate into future stories. Okay, enough bla bla bla, Read on!_

* * *

><p>The exhausted agents filed out of the elevator into the bullpen just after 5am. They were oblivious to the mud they tracked in across the carpet that housekeeping would throw a fit about. Garcia and Emily were waiting for them at Emily's desk. There were no smiles or greetings as they entered. They had closed the case, but none of them felt any accomplishments from it. Cassi was on her way to a maximum security federal prison where she would most likely serve out the rest of her life in isolation, or worse, a short time on death row. It was the most complicated of cases. One where they didn't completely understand their unsub, yet they sympathized with her. Each of them had connected with her in some way, and none of them were sure how to deal with the betrayal.<p>

Morgan would respond in anger, as he often did when things hit a little too close to home. JJ would talk with Reid, and vise versa. They understood each other and dealt with things in a very similar matter. Emily would create a new compartment in her head and tuck it away, pulling it out once in awhile only to feel guilty about it and put it back. Rossi would look at it curiously, using it as a learning and teaching opportunity. He may even put Cassi's profile into book someday. Hotch would deal with it as he did with every other case. He would deal with the fallout, answer to his superiors and never mention it again. It was a cycle they were familiar with. Cassi had hit close and surprised them, but she was still just an unsub, and they would all learn from her. Still, there was one unknown variable they were unsure of. Garcia.

Garcia hadn't been so directly involved in a case since her own shooting. She'd brought Cassi in, made her a part of the team, and had considered her a friend. Garcia saw the good in people and trusted them easily, almost to a fault. She normally wore her heart on her sleeve and was very open with the team. But she hadn't spoken nearly a word since Cassi's real identity had sunken in. Now that it was over, she stood leaning against Emily's desk, eyes on the floor and refusing to look at any of them.

"I just got off the phone with the hospital," Hotch's voice broke the uncomfortable silence, "Lindsay Foster is out of surgery and they're expecting her to make a full recovery."

"That's good news," Emily nodded, but her heart wasn't in it. She was bothered by the question of what really happened at the Foster's home, and who had called the ambulance.

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, "That kid's been through enough."

"Do you think she'll ever tell him?" JJ asked quietly.

Silence fell over the room again. No one had an answer. They still weren't even sure Lindsay Foster even knew anything about Cassi, much less how she would explain it to a child. After a moment to their thoughts, Hotch straitened and lifted his gaze from the floor.

"It still doesn't fit," he shook his head, "there are too many holes. JJ, get the Warden on the phone. I need to talk to her before they book her."

JJ nodded and lifted the phone from the nearest desk, not bothering to make the trip to her office. They all watched silently, deep in their own thoughts while the operator connector her to the Warden.

"Yes, this is Agent Jennifer Jareau," JJ spoke into the receiver once she was connected, "Special Agent Park is transporting a AdMax inmate to you. My Section Chief needs to speak with her before she's booked."

JJ paused for a moment, and the team watched as she listened to the voice on the other end. Suddenly her face drained of color and her eyes shot up to Hotch.

"She what?" JJ's voice was barely audible and Hotch grabbed the phone from her hand.

"This is SSA Aaron Hotchner," he barked into the receiver, "what is the status on UnSub?"

"Agent Hotchner," the voice crackled over the phone, "Agent Parks advised us that the inmate had received injuries and they were diverting to Mecklenberg."

Hotch's gut twisted and he felt his team's eyes on him, tension in the room growing. He slammed the phone down onto the jack without a work to the Warden before picking it back up and dialing.

"Hotch?" Emily frowned at him, "She can't go to Mecklenberg. Sikes is at Mecklenberg."

"I know," he said flatly. Of course he knew. "Come on, pick up the damn phone."

The voicemail for Agent Parks connected and Hotch swore, slamming to phone down again, making Garcia jump.

"Voicemail," he explained, "Rossi, you and Morgan are with me. We have to get there first. JJ, keep trying Parks' cell phone. If he answers, tell him under no circumstances is he to take Cassi to Mecklenberg."

The three agents were storming out of the bullpen and into the elevator before the muddy tracks on the floor had even dried.

* * *

><p>Hotch slid the SUV to a stop with screeching tires and he hopped out without bothering to turn off the ignition. He ran with Rossi and Morgan on his heels to the security gate, flashing his badge and pushing past the first security check point. They entered the building breathing hard and were stopped by a young man in a cheap suit. Hotch stuck his badge in his face.<p>

"We need to see Agent Parks and the inmate he brought in immediately," Hotch ordered.

The man looked confused, "Agent Parks didn't bring in an inmate."

Hotch's chest went rigid, "What do you mean he didn't bring in an inmate?"

The man shrugged, "him and his partner came in about a half hour ago. They didn't have an inmate with them."

"Where is he now?" He growled.

"They're in interrogation in the private holding area."

"Where is that?" Hotch was already moving toward the door, ready to make another run with Rossi and Morgan alongside him.

"It's across the compound, but you can't go in there without authorization. What is going on?"

Hotch ignored him and was already moving off in through the halls in the direction he'd pointed and shouted over his shoulder, "Lock down the facility. Nobody moves from where they're at until I speak with Agent Parks."

"Hotch, where is your head at man?" Morgan asked as they walked briskly down the corridors.

"I think Parks might be playing both sides." Hotch grumbled, making a quick right and spotting a uniformed officer. "Where is interrogation?"

The officer looked dumbfounded and simply pointed down the hall. They hurried and came to a large, windowless steel door.

"You think he's working with Sikes?" Morgan asked as Hotch twisted the door knob and pushed the door in, gripping his gun on his way.

The moment they were inside, he let out a deep, angry breath and released the handle of his gun, "No," he answered Morgan's question, "I think he's working with Cassi."

Rossi and Morgan entered the room, wincing at what had anger Hotch. The grey haired man sat slumped forward in his chair on the opposite side of the interrogation table. His orange jumpsuit appeared painfully bright against his ashen skin as his dead eyes stared straight through them. Morgan jumped into action, shouting out to the officer down the hall to lockdown the entire facility and that Agent Parks was not to be trusted. While the building erupted into deafening wails of the overhead alarm that had been triggered and storming footsteps of facility officers, Hotch stepped slowly around the man at the table. He wasn't overly concerned with the activity outside the room. The man in the suit had told them it had been over a half an hour since he'd seen Parks. That was plenty of time for him to be miles away.

Hotch reached around Sikes' neck to check for the pulse he already knew he wouldn't find. He brought his hand back and crouched in front of him. There was no blood, no slit throat, and no bruises. For a moment he'd wondered how the man had been killed.

"You think Parks did this?" Rossi asked, stepping in closer, "Swaying a federal agent into releasing her is one thing, having him kill for her is entirely different."

"No," Hotch said simply, "Sikes was her end game. There's no way she'd let anyone do it for her. She was here Dave. She did this."

"How?"

Hotch stood and turned to the Officer now standing in the doorway, "I need the video from that camera of Sikes' interrogation with Parks."

"Parks wasn't in here with Sikes," the officer stuttered. Hotch frowned.

"What do you mean Parks wasn't here?"

"Parks had us bring Sikes to interrogation, but he was in the observation room."

"Who was in interrogation with Sikes?"

The officer shrugged, "Special Agent McClure or McCleery, something Irish. I've never met her before."

"Her?" Rossi's eyes went to Hotch.

"Thank you Officer…"

"Roger," he corrected.

"Thank you Roger, we'll just need that tape."

Roger nodded and left in a hurry. Hotch shook his head and glared down and Sikes.

"She walked right in the front door, killed him and walked right back out the way she came in."

"You think the tape will help?" Rossi asked already knowing the answer.

Hotch frowned, uneasy with what his gut was telling him, "No. I think if Parks was working with her, and was the only one in that observation room, nothing would have been recorded. I think she played him just like she played us, and I also think that she is gone for good and we'll spend the next few weeks chasing a ghost."

Rossi stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the large one way mirror on against the far wall, "You know," he sighed, "I think you're right."

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

Garcia shuffled into her office and set her purse on the desk and powered up her computers. She sipped her coffee, in the dim light, staring blankly as the screens came to life. It had been two weeks since the incident at Mecklenberg Penitentiary. In that time, Devin had been reunited with his mother, and his dog, Hotch had been under severe interrogation from his superiors, and the Director of the FBI himself had even made an appearance in the bullpen. Eventually, someone higher up the chain command had decided it best for the reputation of the Bureau not to publicize the identity of the killer the newspapers had already dubbed 'Archer'. Instead they had forced JJ to advise the public that the killer had been stopped in a standoff that had cost both Archer, and their "private consultant, Cassi Maddox," their lives. JJ hated telling the blatant lie, but there was no doubt that the media would have wanted to speak with the "consultant" and the Bureau was not about to release to them that they'd employed the very killer they were chasing. It would have been an embarrassment they'd never recover from, according to the Director. So JJ had done the press conference, stomach turning the whole time, and then they'd all been given a week off to reflect.

Garcia took another swig of her coffee and just as she was opening up her email, the computer blipped and a familiar icon popped up in the bottom corner. Confused, she set the cup on the corner of her desk as she clicked on the icon. The video feed popped up on the monitor and she choked on her coffee, shocked by the person staring back at her.

"Hey." Cassi waved, wincing as it pulled at her injured shoulder.

The small wave that had once seemed quirky and innocent hit Garcia like a smack in the face. The woman in front of her was not the same one she had considered a friend just weeks ago. Garcia had assumed she would have changed her entire appearance, and vanished into retirement on a distant tropical paradise. Instead she wore the same hair style and color, had gotten rid of the wire framed glasses, and her retirement seemed to be surrounded by dark cinderblock. She looked exhausted, with dark circles and lines around her eyes. Garcia immediately pulled back the sudden concern she had for her wellbeing, reminding herself that the woman on the screen was not her friend. It had all been an act; every conversation, every endearing quirk, and every simple smile had been a brilliant performance to gain their trust.

"I have nothing to say to you." Garcia hissed.

"Good, just listen then," Cassi replied, "Nothing I can say will take back things that happened, but I owe you an explanation."

Garcia wanted to tell her that she didn't want an explanation. She wanted to just shut off the feed and deny her request, but in truth, she needed the closure herself. She needed to know why. When Garcia said nothing, Cassie continued speaking in a quiet voice.

"I'm a killer Penelope," she said bluntly, "My purpose is to do what I was told, and not to think twice about it. It's what I was raised to do, and I'm very good at it."

Garcia blinked in surprise and at admission, but remained silent as Cassi took a deep breath and dropped her chin.

"But then you guys came along. I never meant to hurt any of you."

"You shot Emily!" Garcia's voice went higher than she'd meant it to.

Cassi straightened and her face took on a stern look, "That was an accident."

"You're a professional assassin," Garcia spat, "how do you _accidently_ shoot someone?"

Cassi took a deep breath, "I made a promise to you that I would stop Lambert, and that I wouldn't let anything happen to your friends. I only went to the plaza to make sure I kept that promise. When Lambert got the drop on them, I had to take the shot. How was I supposed to know that damn cop would shoot him in the knee? I mean, come on, who shoots a man trying to kill you in the knee?"

"He fell in front of Emily," Garcia whispered, realization dawning.

"I'm sorry." Cassi admitted.

"Why did you do it Cassi? We would have protected Devin. Why didn't you just ask us for help?"

Cassi smiled, showing her dimples and irritating Garcia, "My world doesn't work the same as yours. I don't trust anyone with the life of my son. Hell I don't even trust anyone to know that he is my son. But now, Sikes is gone, and Forester is gone. He has a chance at a normal life."

Garcia desperately wanted to stay angry at her. She eyed the IP address at the bottom of the screen as she listened.

"You won't be able to track it," Cassi grinned.

"Track what?"

"You know what," Cassi laughed, "great job with the radios by the way. I knew you'd track it back at Sikes' compound, but I didn't expect Derek and JJ to be on me so fast."

"How did you know we had the radio?" Garcia asked. It had been one of the many holes in the story that the team hadn't been able to piece together.

"Because I gave it to you."

Garcia frowned, "what do you mean? Morgan and Rossi found it on the dog's collar." Realization dawned on her as the words left her mouth, "you put it on Bird's collar."

"You're better at the field work then you think you are," Cassi grinned.

"But that means you were at the house," Garcia ignored her comment, "When were you at the house?"

Cassi sighed, "I knew they'd found Devin. I tried to beat them there but I was too late. Devin and the guys were gone when I got there. I did what I could for Lindsay and put the radio on Bird's collar."

"The 911 dispatcher said the call had come from a woman," Garcia gasped, "I just assumed Lindsay Foster managed to make the call herself. We were right behind you the whole time."

"Too close behind me. It was only about an hour later that you made that call to Emily. Thanks for that by the way," Cassi laughed, "I was just about to break it to her when you called. You should have seen her face. I'm lucky she didn't shoot me on the spot."

Garcia didn't laugh. If things hadn't gone exactly as they had between Cassi and Emily, Reid and Hotch would both be dead.

"What if you had overestimated us?" Garcia asked quietly.

"I spent a week studying you're every move Penelope. If I did anything, I underestimated you. How the hell did you guys get onto the radio frequency?"

"You didn't mean for that to happen?" Garcia frowned, thinking back the split second when they'd cracked the password and Emily yelled through the speaker, "wasn't that a distraction so you could, ya know, take out the bad guys?"

Cassi laughed a genuine laugh, "Hell no, that squawk of Emily's scared the shit outa me! I set it there for you to see and Hotch to find so you could track it. I never thought you'd actually break into it."

"Maybe you're not as good as you think you are."

"No, I know exactly how good I am," Cassi teased, "but all of you are much better. It took you a week to figure out what I'd been planning for years. Which is why I really need to hang this up."

Garcia frowned.

"Oh come on Garcia, you've been tracing this IP address since the moment the video connected." Cassi grinned smugly, "You're wasting your time, but I should go anyway. You aren't the only ones looking for me now."

Garcia frowned deeper, "What do you mean?"

"You're worried?" Cassi raised an eyebrow, "That surprises me."

"I'm not worried," Garcia argued, "I may understand you now, but you're still a killer, and I'll still help them find you to the best of my abilities."

"Of that," Cassi smiled, "I have no doubt. You take care of yourself Penelope. I'll see you guys on the news."

With that and a small wave, the computer screen went blank and left Garcia feeling oddly alone. She'd never expected to see the woman again, and yet Cassi had risked her freedom for a short conference call. Something about the call was unsettling and Garcia wished she'd pressed harder in finding out who else was looking for her.

Emily cleared her throat and Garcia spun in her chair, knocking over her coffee cup.

"Jesus Em, how long have you been standing there?"

Emily stepped further into the room and took a seat next to her friend, "you know you have to tell Hotch right."

"I know." Garcia nodded, "it won't matter anyway. She's probably already a mile away from her shattered computer."

Emily chuckled, "probably."

"She said someone else was looking for her Em. I know I shouldn't care, but last time someone as after her, sixteen people died."

"Let's just hope we find her first." Emily offered her a smile, then patted her on the knee, "Come on, I'll buy you a new coffee."

Garcia frowned at the mess and stood with Emily, "You know what's weird, I've never felt so angry or betrayed in my entire life. But now, I feel better. Nothing has changed, she's still a liar and a killer, and I don't trust her, but I'm okay with it now."

"Well, like someone once said," Emily smiled as they walked down the hall toward the bullpen, "Shit happens, you accept it, then get over it."

Garcia laughed, "How inspiring, who said that?"

Emily laughed again, "I think I did. But I was really high on painkillers."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: And there you have it! Let me know what you think! Is Cassi bad, or is she good? What are your opinions? I will be taking what I learn from you after this in my future plans to bring her back in another story. Thanks for sticking with me. Fin~<em>


	21. Chapter 21

Just a quick update everyone. The next story in the bullseye installment it up! I've posted the first chapter to Whiteout, which follows closely in line with this one. I you enjoyed bullseye, and like the Cassi character, go check it out! Hope to see my regulars there! Thank you! RJ


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